Into the East
by Frodo Baggins of Bag End
Summary: After the Quest, Frodo comes down with a serious illness, and journeys to Harad in search of better health.  Told by Samwise.  No sex, slash, or profanity.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Into the East

Author: Febobe (Frodo Baggins of Bag End)

Rating/Warnings: PG/K+ (graphic food descriptions, some occasionally graphic medical angst - NO CANON CHARACTER DEATH. I promise! It may seem at first that I'm headed that direction, but I absolutely guarantee, NO canon characters will be killed off in this fic!)

Summary: After the Quest, Frodo comes down with a serious illness, and journeys to Harad in search of better health. Told by Samwise.

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Elrond, Eowyn, Faramir, Merry, Pippin, an OC named Kalil (partly in tribute to Claudia's own Khalil), other supporting OCs, brief appearances by Aragorn and Gandalf. Others TBA, if any.

Disclaimer: I do not own and have not created any of J.R.R. Tolkien's work, neither characters nor world nor any of his concepts. I'm just playing in the sandbox, with no ill intent. Original characters, including (but not limited to) Kalil are my own creation, and I would appreciate it if they weren't used without asking. (Unlike Tolkien, I'm not dead!) This fic meets FrodoHealers standards and is free from profanity, sex, and slash.

Notes: Sam lovers, I think this is a fic you'll enjoy, as it strongly features his voice and viewpoint. Frodo lovers, this is definitely a fic you'll enjoy, especially if you're an old-school FrodoHealers fan. Faramir and Eowyn, Merry and Pippin will all have significant roles to play throughout this fic, though it takes a few chapters to get there. Also, please note that I have chosen Indian food for the predominant culinary culture of Harad. I realize that it may well be closer to Middle Eastern cookery, but I wanted to give it a distinctive tie and recognizable flavor, and I chose Indian. No ill will intended if you prefer a different interpretation; just know that this is my interpretation only and I realize it isn't the only potential take on Haradraic food out there. A word about Kalil and the Haradrim: I intend absolutely no disrespect to any culture or language. But the people of Harad _would_ look and seem strange to Sam, Shire hobbit that he is, and more so than the fair-skinned elves and Big Folk he knew well. As for Kalil's language, I realize some people are fluent in multiple languages, but Kalil isn't as fluent as some people. I think he does pretty well myself!

CHAPTER ONE

Mr. Frodo just didn't seem right to me. Not right at all. Too thin and drawn he was, still, a full two month after we'd waked up after the Quest.

And that cough! I didn't like the sound o'that at all, no sir. Some time over the past fortnight, Mr. Frodo had come down with a bad cough - started with a cold, it did, that seemed to settle in his chest and never quite leave him. Oh, the drippy nose cleared up, but he still coughed and choked at all hours, and seemed to take a chill whatever the weather, and looked to me like he just wasn't feeling at all well.

"Sam? Sam!"

Well, that set me flying, and right glad I'd chose to sit up in Mr. Frodo's room 'stead o'going to my own that night. Sure enough, he was calling for me, sitting up in his bed all soaked to the skin with sweat.

"I hate to bother you...but I don't feel at all well, and I - I think I might need some help changing the sheets - "

I snorted. "Stuff you will! Let me get you set up in the chair by the fire, wrap you up good in blankets, and then _I'll_ see about them sheets. Come now, easy does it."

I tried not to say much, but my stomach went right to my throat when he put his arm over my shoulders for support. I could feel his skin right through my clothes - soaked and burning up all at the same time, for all he was shaking like a leaf. Once I got him in the chair, one halting step at a time getting there, I tucked him up with soft, dry quilts and got him a cup o'hot tea, chamomile, from the pot on the hearth, and that seemed to settle him a bit. I left him long enough to change his bed, but while I worked, I got my nerve up to ask what I had to ask.

"Will you let me go get Strider? Or Lord Elrond?"

He sighed. "I don't know. I don't want to be a bother - "

"Beggin' pardon, sir, but you feel like you're burning up to me. Now, fevers can get right bad right fast if you don't do something about 'em. My feeling is we need somebody who knows how to take good care o'you."

"_You_ do."

His smile didn't fool me. I knew sick when I saw it. "Thank you, sir, but I'd feel a sight better if you'd just let me go wake Lord Elrond up and bring him here."

"If you think it best, Sam. I shan't argue."

And that itself scared me good - because Mr. Frodo is usually so scared o'Lord Elrond's medicines, for all their nasty tastes, that he'll do right near anything to avoid having to take even one dose. But this time he didn't fight, just sat there all shivering and shaking in his blankets.

Something was bad wrong. I knew it in my bones.

-to be continued-


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Into the East

Author: Febobe (Frodo Baggins of Bag End)

Rating/Warnings: PG/K+ (graphic food descriptions, some occasionally graphic medical angst - NO CANON CHARACTER DEATH. I promise! It may seem at first that I'm headed that direction, but I absolutely guarantee, NO canon characters will be killed off in this fic!)

Summary: After the Quest, Frodo comes down with a serious illness, and journeys to Harad in search of better health. Told by Samwise.

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Elrond, Eowyn, Faramir, Merry, Pippin, an OC named Kalil (partly in tribute to Claudia's own Khalil), other supporting OCs, brief appearances by Aragorn and Gandalf. Others TBA, if any.

Disclaimer: I do not own and have not created any of J.R.R. Tolkien's work, neither characters nor world nor any of his concepts. I'm just playing in the sandbox, with no ill intent. Original characters, including (but not limited to) Kalil are my own creation, and I would appreciate it if they weren't used without asking. (Unlike Tolkien, I'm not dead!) This fic meets FrodoHealers standards and is free from profanity, sex, and slash.

Notes: Sam lovers, I think this is a fic you'll enjoy, as it strongly features his voice and viewpoint. Frodo lovers, this is definitely a fic you'll enjoy, especially if you're an old-school FrodoHealers fan. Faramir and Eowyn, Merry and Pippin will all have significant roles to play throughout this fic, though it takes a few chapters to get there. Also, please note that I have chosen Indian food for the predominant culinary culture of Harad. I realize that it may well be closer to Middle Eastern cookery, but I wanted to give it a distinctive tie and recognizable flavor, and I chose Indian. No ill will intended if you prefer a different interpretation; just know that this is my interpretation only and I realize it isn't the only potential take on Haradraic food out there. A word about Kalil and the Haradrim: I intend absolutely no disrespect to any culture or language. But the people of Harad _would_ look and seem strange to Sam, Shire hobbit that he is, and more so than the fair-skinned elves and Big Folk he knew well. As for Kalil's language, I realize some people are fluent in multiple languages, but Kalil isn't as fluent as some people. I think he does pretty well myself!

CHAPTER TWO

"Can you cough for me?"

I didn't know as Lord Elrond could have asked a stranger question, but Mr. Frodo didn't even buck, he was feeling that poorly, just leaned forward like Lord Elrond wanted, pressing a pocket-handkerchief to his mouth while he coughed and coughed, his poor shoulders fair shaking. Lord Elrond looked worried if you asked me, and he was so careful rubbing Mr. Frodo's back after he listened that I was more worried, if that was possible. After the fit passed on, he helped Mr. Frodo lie back down in his nice clean bed and tucked him up all gentle and easy, and pushed his curls back from where they were sticking to his brow.

And then he looked at me, and motioned me closer.

"Frodo, I will not hide the truth from you," he said, looking at Mr. Frodo, "but I do not wish you to fret. Let Sam and I and the others look after your needs. You have what is called 'consumption' - have you heard of it at all?"

Consumption! Why, who hadn't? We called it that back in Hobbiton, too, and not real common, but a few times a year we'd hear o'somebody being taken off by it, or bad sick with it, and o'course everybody shook their heads and sighed and sent over big pots o'soup or dishes cooked up to fatten the person up, but it never worked, and they usually passed on within a year or so.

Not Mr. Frodo.

Not after all he went through.

But Lord Elrond didn't look like he was teasing, nor was he the sort to joke about much, and sure not this kind o'thing.

"Yes," Mr. Frodo said at last (and o'course he did, being from Hobbiton so many years himself), "I remember that from the Shire. But I don't know a great deal about it, except that it took one of my aunts, and a neighbor across the way."

"Yes. It is a very grave sickness." Elrond slipped one hand around Mr. Frodo's, like he wanted to comfort him, and I was glad. "But we have caught it not very long after you started to show symptoms, which is a good thing, and we have means available to us that are not always available in the Shire...including a better climate. Minas Tirith is good, being a southern clime, though later we may find something even more dry and warm, if you continue to be unwell. But for now my orders are that you rest in bed - you may get up and sit in a chair for an hour or two every day, and if the weather is fine you may let someone carry you to the garden, bundled up, to enjoy the sunshine. And you must eat for us...I know you do not likely feel very much like eating, but let Sam and the others feed you up with fattening foods, and good nourishing soups...and if there is anything you have a particular taste for, do tell us, so that we may fetch it for you. You must take plenty of nourishment and liquids, and I shall make up some medicines for you - which I will try to sweeten as much as possible whenever I can - to help the cough and bring your fever down a little, perhaps something to improve your appetite. But the rest and nourishment are of vital importance. Do both of you understand?"

We both nodded.

Lord Elrond stood up. "Frodo, try to rest. Sam, will you come with me?"

Mr. Frodo closed his eyes and curled up, and I trotted right along out the door with Lord Elrond, who pulled me aside in the hall just a little ways from Mr. Frodo's room.

"I do not wish to alarm Frodo, but do you understand the severity of his illness?"

I gave a nod. "He might die."

"Yes. If he does not recover, he will die, and I believe the best we can hope for is a partial recovery...he will likely never be as strong as he once was. We must protect and care for him."

"O'course, sir."

Lord Elrond leaned close. "Will you help me in this? I have not your skill at coaxing him to eat, and if he will not take sufficient food, there is no hope left. May I count on you to keep me informed, and to try all means necessary to get him to eat? Elessar and I will gladly place the kitchens and their staff at your disposal."

Well, now, _that_ was something I knew how to do. "You know you can, sir. I'll get food down him, or my name ain't Samwise Gamgee."

"Thank you. I am most grateful for you, Master Gamgee." Lord Elrond kind o'smiled then, but it was a sad smile. "I will return shortly to take your orders for Frodo's breakfast. But now I must go and tell Elessar what is the matter with Frodo, and we must arrange for one of us to sit with him, for the whole burden should not fall upon your shoulders. You too must rest and eat."

"I don't mind. I can manage fine."

"Nay, Sam...'tis not healthful for you to take it on alone. Let us help you."

"Only if you promise to have someone come wherever I am and get me if he takes a bad turn or wants me there."

"I promise." He straightened up then, and turned. "Thank you, my friend."

And then he was gone.

-to be continued-


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Into the East

Author: Febobe (Frodo Baggins of Bag End)

Rating/Warnings: PG/K+ (graphic food descriptions, some occasionally graphic medical angst - NO CANON CHARACTER DEATH. I promise! It may seem at first that I'm headed that direction, but I absolutely guarantee, NO canon characters will be killed off in this fic!)

Summary: After the Quest, Frodo comes down with a serious illness, and journeys to Harad in search of better health. Told by Samwise.

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Elrond, Eowyn, Faramir, Merry, Pippin, an OC named Kalil (partly in tribute to Claudia's own Khalil), other supporting OCs, brief appearances by Aragorn and Gandalf. Others TBA, if any.

Disclaimer: I do not own and have not created any of J.R.R. Tolkien's work, neither characters nor world nor any of his concepts. I'm just playing in the sandbox, with no ill intent. Original characters, including (but not limited to) Kalil are my own creation, and I would appreciate it if they weren't used without asking. (Unlike Tolkien, I'm not dead!) This fic meets FrodoHealers standards and is free from profanity, sex, and slash.

Notes: Sam lovers, I think this is a fic you'll enjoy, as it strongly features his voice and viewpoint. Frodo lovers, this is definitely a fic you'll enjoy, especially if you're an old-school FrodoHealers fan. Faramir and Eowyn, Merry and Pippin will all have significant roles to play throughout this fic, though it takes a few chapters to get there. Also, please note that I have chosen Indian food for the predominant culinary culture of Harad. I realize that it may well be closer to Middle Eastern cookery, but I wanted to give it a distinctive tie and recognizable flavor, and I chose Indian. No ill will intended if you prefer a different interpretation; just know that this is my interpretation only and I realize it isn't the only potential take on Haradraic food out there. A word about Kalil and the Haradrim: I intend absolutely no disrespect to any culture or language. But the people of Harad _would_ look and seem strange to Sam, Shire hobbit that he is, and more so than the fair-skinned elves and Big Folk he knew well. As for Kalil's language, I realize some people are fluent in multiple languages, but Kalil isn't as fluent as some people. I think he does pretty well myself!

CHAPTER THREE

But Mr. Frodo weren't getting no better, not even after a week in bed with me trying to get him to eat. He wouldn't touch bacon, one o'his old favorite foods, nor sausage neither, nor anything much but soup, and mostly the brothy soups at that. He'd eat up thin mushroom soup or light chicken broth, and now and again a good rich soup or one made all nice and chunky with vegetables and bits o'meat, but mostly he wouldn't touch nothing solid, 'cept maybe applesauce.

And he kept getting thinner and thinner.

And Lord Elrond looked more worried by the day, and Aragorn did right near everything you could think of to get Mr. Frodo eating and feeling better, but all he'd do is lie in bed and beg to be allowed to rest, and he didn't want nothing much more'n water. When I'd bathe him, it fair broke my heart, it did, for all he was so thin and bony. Every bit o'weight he'd gained back those first few weeks afer the Quest was long gone, and took with it more besides.

So one night Aragorn and Lord Elrond called me in and left Eowyn and Arwen fussing over Mr. Frodo, trying to soothe his fever and coax him into eating a few bites.

"Frodo is not doing at all well."

I glared at Aragorn. "As if I hadn't noticed. It's not for want o'trying that he won't eat, I'm telling you; he just tells me he don't feel like it, and he won't let me get more'n a bite or two down him most meals."

"We know, Sam. But no one can change things. There is but one hope, I believe, left to Frodo. But I would not suggest it without your blessing." Aragorn hesitated, and he and Lord Elrond looked at each other before he looked back at me. "Faramir and Eowyn will be leaving in a fortnight for the city of Riavod, the capital city of the Haradrim. Harad is a hot and dry clime, much warmer than even Minas Tirith. They have ways with medicine which are unknown to us, though much care would have to be taken in selecting a sufficiently loyal physician. What we were wondering was - do you think you could accompany them so that Frodo could also go?"

I gaped.

I goggled.

I couldn't help myself.

Harad? The country o'them foreigners? Strange Big Folk who'd worked for Sauron himself?

"Wouldn't it be too dangerous?"

"The roads have been cleared. And the Haradrim respect for authority is well established at this point. There are always a few traitors in any group, but most of them are glad to be free of Sauron's reign, and happy to serve a king who will let them keep their old ways of life and govern them but loosely. Still, a presence there is required, and Faramir and Eowyn seem most capable and suited for the task. They love Frodo dearly, and would see him well, and Eowyn has promised that she would, of course, help you nurse your master."

Aragorn hesitated.

"We would not want Frodo to be alone and without friends, whatever the outcome of his illness. Faramir and Eowyn will tend him well, but we feel another hobbit would be a fine addition. Merry and Pippin may also join you, if you are all willing; Merry will serve as Eowyn's Rohirrim escort, and Pippin as part of Faramir's Gondorian guard."

"Of course," Elrond added, "if you deem it better for Frodo to stay here, we will hear your case, but...I fear greatly for his health and life should he stay."

Well, I felt like the world had been knocked out from under me, and no mistake.

Go to a strange land with Mr. Frodo. (Well, that much weren't so new.)

Stay with him till he died or got better. (Nothing new there, either.)

They weren't asking me to do nothing I hadn't already did.

"I'll do whatever's best for Mr. Frodo. If he needs to go to some place, I'll pack us up myself. I'll make sure he don't have to do without nothing."

"Thank you, Sam. I realize this is a daunting prospect for you."

I looked up at Aragorn. "Ain't half as bad as losing Mr. Frodo, if you ask me."

-to be continued-


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Into the East

Author: Febobe (Frodo Baggins of Bag End)

Rating/Warnings: PG/K+ (graphic food descriptions, some occasionally graphic medical angst - NO CANON CHARACTER DEATH. I promise! It may seem at first that I'm headed that direction, but I absolutely guarantee, NO canon characters will be killed off in this fic!)

Summary: After the Quest, Frodo comes down with a serious illness, and journeys to Harad in search of better health. Told by Samwise.

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Elrond, Eowyn, Faramir, Merry, Pippin, an OC named Kalil (partly in tribute to Claudia's own Khalil), other supporting OCs, brief appearances by Aragorn and Gandalf. Others TBA, if any.

Disclaimer: I do not own and have not created any of J.R.R. Tolkien's work, neither characters nor world nor any of his concepts. I'm just playing in the sandbox, with no ill intent. Original characters, including (but not limited to) Kalil are my own creation, and I would appreciate it if they weren't used without asking. (Unlike Tolkien, I'm not dead!) This fic meets FrodoHealers standards and is free from profanity, sex, and slash.

Notes: Sam lovers, I think this is a fic you'll enjoy, as it strongly features his voice and viewpoint. Frodo lovers, this is definitely a fic you'll enjoy, especially if you're an old-school FrodoHealers fan. Faramir and Eowyn, Merry and Pippin will all have significant roles to play throughout this fic, though it takes a few chapters to get there. Also, please note that I have chosen Indian food for the predominant culinary culture of Harad. I realize that it may well be closer to Middle Eastern cookery, but I wanted to give it a distinctive tie and recognizable flavor, and I chose Indian. No ill will intended if you prefer a different interpretation; just know that this is my interpretation only and I realize it isn't the only potential take on Haradraic food out there. A word about Kalil and the Haradrim: I intend absolutely no disrespect to any culture or language. But the people of Harad _would_ look and seem strange to Sam, Shire hobbit that he is, and more so than the fair-skinned elves and Big Folk he knew well. As for Kalil's language, I realize some people are fluent in multiple languages, but Kalil isn't as fluent as some people. I think he does pretty well myself!

CHAPTER FOUR

Well, now that we had that settled, it was down to me to talk to Mr. Frodo about going, we decided. Not that I was sure he'd be too keen on it, but he was likely to take it better from me, we figured, than anybody else.

So I let Lady Eowyn and Queen Arwen get him all settled, seeing as they wanted to get his bath ready for us, and then when I got him in the tub, I started talking right afer I started washing.

"Reckon Lord Elrond and Strider think a change o'climate might help you some," I tried. "Some place warmer, maybe drier, and not too terrible far from here."

"Do you think it might help?"

His poor voice sounded so plaintive and pitiful that I don't reckon my heart was far from breaking in two, but I tried to smile as I gave a nod. "I do think they could be right. It's worth a chance, leastways I think it is. Lord Faramir and Lady Eowyn, they're going to somewhere might be nice for you, and they think they'd be just happy to take you and me and Mr. Merry and Master Pippin along too, and Lady Eowyn says she'd help me take good care o'you too, and make sure you were good and safe."

"Is it very far? How would we travel? I don't think I could manage walking any distance just now."

"Oh, no, sir, we wasn't thinking that at all! We was thinking of a wagon for you to ride in, all covered up nice and shady, where you could stay good and comfortable, much as any travel's ever comfortable. It's a few days' journey, I think, but not too terrible far. Strider could get to you, or you back to him, if it come to that, I think. And you'd have all of us there to look after you. You know me and the others wouldn't never leave you."

"Perhaps, then. What is the place?"

Now it come to it. "It's called Harad. It's the country o'them foreign folk, but Strider says they seem real glad to be rid o'the Dark Lord and all, and happy to have a good king for a change, and though we'll want to be right careful, I reckon we'll be as safe there as anywhere down this way. Probably not half as dangerous as where you and I've been all this time."

"Then we shall go. Perhaps it would be nice to travel a little. See the world, and not on our feet for a change. I could fancy a warmer climate, truly."

Whew.

"I wonder what kind of food they have there..."

Well, now, that was the first interest in food I'd heard in the better part o'two months, even in passing. So I thought I'd better run with that.

"I don't reckon as I know a lot about it, but Lord Elrond and Strider said they have nice food...especially fruit, lots o'fresh fruit, and tasty spices to go in things, and real interesting stuff at the markets, too, meat and vegetables and stuff roasted all on long sticks, and spiced or fried-up nuts, and all kinds o'good things to munch on. We're going to want to visit the markets, from what I hear, and probably pretty often. Lady Eowyn and Lord Faramir could push you in a wheeled-chair and you wouldn't have to do a thing but sit there and enjoy the sun warm on your face, and let me hand you nice things to taste of."

"I should like that. Mmm." He closed his eyes, leaning back against the towel I'd set out for him. "Thank you, Sam. I know this must be hard for you, especially the thought of going to such a strange place."

"Anything for you, sir."

And I meant it, too.

-to be continued-


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Into the East

Author: Febobe (Frodo Baggins of Bag End)

Rating/Warnings: PG/K+ (graphic food descriptions, some occasionally graphic medical angst - NO CANON CHARACTER DEATH. I promise! It may seem at first that I'm headed that direction, but I absolutely guarantee, NO canon characters will be killed off in this fic!)

Summary: After the Quest, Frodo comes down with a serious illness, and journeys to Harad in search of better health. Told by Samwise.

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Elrond, Eowyn, Faramir, Merry, Pippin, an OC named Kalil (partly in tribute to Claudia's own Khalil), other supporting OCs, brief appearances by Aragorn and Gandalf. Others TBA, if any.

Disclaimer: I do not own and have not created any of J.R.R. Tolkien's work, neither characters nor world nor any of his concepts. I'm just playing in the sandbox, with no ill intent. Original characters, including (but not limited to) Kalil are my own creation, and I would appreciate it if they weren't used without asking. (Unlike Tolkien, I'm not dead!) This fic meets FrodoHealers standards and is free from profanity, sex, and slash.

Notes: Sam lovers, I think this is a fic you'll enjoy, as it strongly features his voice and viewpoint. Frodo lovers, this is definitely a fic you'll enjoy, especially if you're an old-school FrodoHealers fan. Faramir and Eowyn, Merry and Pippin will all have significant roles to play throughout this fic, though it takes a few chapters to get there. Also, please note that I have chosen Indian food for the predominant culinary culture of Harad. I realize that it may well be closer to Middle Eastern cookery, but I wanted to give it a distinctive tie and recognizable flavor, and I chose Indian. No ill will intended if you prefer a different interpretation; just know that this is my interpretation only and I realize it isn't the only potential take on Haradraic food out there. A word about Kalil and the Haradrim: I intend absolutely no disrespect to any culture or language. But the people of Harad _would_ look and seem strange to Sam, Shire hobbit that he is, and more so than the fair-skinned elves and Big Folk he knew well. As for Kalil's language, I realize some people are fluent in multiple languages, but Kalil isn't as fluent as some people. I think he does pretty well myself!

CHAPTER FIVE

Mr. Frodo seemed to be interested enough in our trip that he perked up a little the next fortnight, though he still ran real high fevers and shook all over with chills, and he wouldn't eat an awful lot, not near what was proper for a hobbit. But he'd try, and leastways he'd let me feed him something every few hours, even if it weren't much. It was enough that I figured we were right to go to that place, if thinking 'bout it got his interest up that much. And I hoped he might start eating better there...he always did love fresh fruit, and if they had as good o'fruit there as Lord Elrond and Strider said they did.

But one afternoon, we fair got a miracle.

Mr. Frodo was taking his morning rest, and I'd given him a bit o'vegetable soup strained thin, the way he'd take it best now, and tucked him up with warm blankets and the softest o'pillows. It would be getting on toward lunch before we knew it, I figured, and I was trying to think what I might could get him to swallow, when he said something.

"Sam?"

"Yes, Mr. Frodo?"

"I don't suppose I could have something besides soup for luncheon today?"

Well, my heart fair jumped up in my throat. I weren't none too sure whether he meant _less_ or _more_, but I tried not to show how eager I was to find out. "O'course you could, sir, whatever you fancy. What would you think you'd like?"

He rolled onto his side and looked at me. "Do you recall that chicken Boromir used to talk about? The kind they made for us once, when we had dinner with Faramir? Hunter's chicken, they called it. It had mushrooms cooked in with it."

Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather.

"I remember, sir. Would you like some o'that?"

He nodded. "Please."

Well, I just about knocked the door down getting out o'there to run and tell the messenger they kept standing outside the door, so's I wouldn't have to leave Mr. Frodo to fetch and carry all the time. He looked all wide-eyed - I reckon all those days o'me asking for soups and broths, and now this, startled him too - and off he went, quick as a jackrabbit in spring.

And then I went back in to sit with Mr. Frodo, trying my hardest not to show just how very excited I was.

I don't reckon it took all that long for them to fix the chicken, but it seemed like ages, and I kept hoping against hope that he wouldn't change his mind by the time it got there. But soon enough I heard some Big Person's footsteps, and a knock at the door, and I called for whoever it was to come on in.

It was Mr. Stri- I mean Aragorn. After so long I still sometimes thought o'him as Mr. Strider, and this was one o'those days when it was hard to shake.

And he had Mr. Frodo's tray, fixed up pretty as you please, with little dishes and a big cup o'fresh milk and everything on it.

"I thought that I might help Frodo with his lunch today, with your permissions," he said, real warm-like. "I was coming up to see him, and they said this was ready, so I thought I might bring it."

Well. That was fine and no mistake, and so long's nobody was kicking me out o'the room, I didn't mind so much. Gave me better time to watch Mr. Frodo and see how he was eating, 'stead o'worrying whether I cut the pieces small enough or went too fast or too slow.

"Make sure you cut it up nice," I warned him just the same. "Small bites. No sense in nobody choking, now."

Aragorn smiled, and started taking the lids off dishes, and there was that hunter's chicken, and I did have to say it smelled delicious. He had the milk, too, and creamed taters, honeyed carrots, green peas, and a little dish o'batter pudding with fresh blueberries, still in a little pan, just like it had been baked up special that way for Mr. Frodo. I was right impressed, if I do say so myself, especially when he started cutting up the meat in nice little bites.

"Does that look inviting, Frodo?" he asked.

Mr. Frodo nodded, and he looked so happy as I came over and propped him up good on pillows so's he could eat. "It smells good, too," he said, and looked happier'n I'd seen him since...well, right around the time we waked up after the Quest, and no mistake.

"Slowly, now," Aragorn said. "Take your time. There is no hurry."

And I was right glad as I watched Mr. Frodo take his good time eating, 'cause it never did nobody no good to rush food. He seemed to take his meal all right, no choking, though sometimes he did have to cough for a minute before they went on, he was that sick. But he ate more'n half o'that chicken, and every last bite o'mushrooms out of it, a few mouthfuls o'the creamed taters, and some o'the carrots, and a bite or two o'peas, and a fair bit o'the pudding with blueberries, and drank the milk, every last sup of it. And while he ate, he and Aragorn talked a little, and right interesting it was too.

"Tell me, Frodo, are you excited about your journey?"

Frodo swallowed a sip o'milk before he answered. "Yes...and no. I am a little nervous about it, and of course I hate to leave so many good people who have been kind to me." He paused to catch his breath. "But since Sam and the others may go with me, I'm not so afraid, really. It sounds very interesting, where we're going."

"It is. We have already identified the man who will be your doctor there." Aragorn offered him a spoonful-taste o'pudding. "There is a man, a doctor, who was of aid to Gondor during the War. He was an informer, fighting for the sake of our cause, longing to free his people from the Dark Lord's tyranny. He rejoiced with us when Sauron fell, and he has proven himself loyal through great peril to his own life. We would trust him with our lives...including the most precious life we know."

Mr. Frodo went pink. "Thank you. What is his name?"

"He is called Kalil, which in their tongue means friend. A wise choice of name for him, I think, and he and I have met; he came early during this peace to express his loyalty and devotion to our kingdom. Faramir says that without Kalil, they would have lost many more men to the Haradrim. He said that if he lay ill and in need of aid, he would trust Kalil to attend him. I consider that a strong recommendation indeed."

"It is." Mr. Frodo looked up at him real curious-like. "Is it true that oranges grow there on trees? The fruit which that lovely juice comes from?"

"It is true. They have in that land more kinds of fruit than you have ever seen in your life, Frodo, including one I think you should like to try that is called ba-na-na. It is yellow and quite soft, and mashes up very easily. I think you should try that when you have settled in; you will find it sweet and nourishing."

"I should like that. It sounds nice."

Well. To hear Mr. Frodo talking about food with any kind o'interest sold me straight on to going. Not bite nor sup more'n soup and maybe applesauce for weeks, and now he wanted good solid food that might help put the meat back on his poor bones? O'course part o'me thought - _if he's doing that much better now, perhaps we could stay here_ - but the other part o'me knew better.

We had to go. If the promise o'going was making him feel that much better, who knew but what that strange land might not make him all the way better?

-to be continued-


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Into the East

Author: Febobe (Frodo Baggins of Bag End)

Rating/Warnings: PG/K+ (graphic food descriptions, some occasionally graphic medical angst - NO CANON CHARACTER DEATH. I promise! It may seem at first that I'm headed that direction, but I absolutely guarantee, NO canon characters will be killed off in this fic!)

Summary: After the Quest, Frodo comes down with a serious illness, and journeys to Harad in search of better health. Told by Samwise.

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Elrond, Eowyn, Faramir, Merry, Pippin, an OC named Kalil (partly in tribute to Claudia's own Khalil), other supporting OCs, brief appearances by Aragorn and Gandalf. Others TBA, if any.

Disclaimer: I do not own and have not created any of J.R.R. Tolkien's work, neither characters nor world nor any of his concepts. I'm just playing in the sandbox, with no ill intent. Original characters, including (but not limited to) Kalil are my own creation, and I would appreciate it if they weren't used without asking. (Unlike Tolkien, I'm not dead!) This fic meets FrodoHealers standards and is free from profanity, sex, and slash.

Notes: Sam lovers, I think this is a fic you'll enjoy, as it strongly features his voice and viewpoint. Frodo lovers, this is definitely a fic you'll enjoy, especially if you're an old-school FrodoHealers fan. Faramir and Eowyn, Merry and Pippin will all have significant roles to play throughout this fic, though it takes a few chapters to get there. Also, please note that I have chosen Indian food for the predominant culinary culture of Harad. I realize that it may well be closer to Middle Eastern cookery, but I wanted to give it a distinctive tie and recognizable flavor, and I chose Indian. No ill will intended if you prefer a different interpretation; just know that this is my interpretation only and I realize it isn't the only potential take on Haradraic food out there. A word about Kalil and the Haradrim: I intend absolutely no disrespect to any culture or language. But the people of Harad _would_ look and seem strange to Sam, Shire hobbit that he is, and more so than the fair-skinned elves and Big Folk he knew well. As for Kalil's language, I realize some people are fluent in multiple languages, but Kalil isn't as fluent as some people. I think he does pretty well myself!

CHAPTER SIX

Well, we were all packed up and no mistake.

I'd taken three days packing me and Mr. Frodo, and I'd even found a few minutes while Queen Arwen sat with Mr. Frodo to help Merry and Pippin pack, they were so scattered about it all. But they seemed real eager to go too, anything to help Mr. Frodo, and right brave about it they were, so I didn't reckon I ought to be nervous.

After all, hadn't Mr. Frodo and I been through worse? At least we'd have water, plenty o'clean water, and food. And no walking...not that I minded, but poor Mr. Frodo would've blown away in the first puff o'wind, and he was too weak to take five steps, so I didn't want him lifting a finger.

But there didn't seem to be much worry about that, 'cause Faramir and Eowyn came to see him and fussed over him and said how glad they were he was coming, and Lady Eowyn she carried on like she'd had a child and Frodo was the child. You'd a thought somebody had given her the best gift in the world for him to go with her to that place, and no mistake. And I couldn't help liking her. She had killed that awful thing, that wraith that hurt Mr. Frodo so, and I couldn't help feeling like somebody that brave would keep Mr. Frodo safe no matter what, even if she had to use a sword to do it. Obviously she weren't afraid o'nothing nor nobody.

And then it was time to go, and I felt butterflies dancing in my stomach as Aragorn carried Mr. Frodo out to the big wagon we were going to ride in, and laid him down where Queen Arwen and Lady Eowyn had made up a pallet for him. They'd put in cushions for me too, which touched me deep. I thought that was right sweet o'them. I'd ridden in more than one wagon without anything between my backside and bouncing wood rocking back and forth, but I can't say as I'd recommend it. I didn't envy Master Merry or Master Pippin, who were going to ride ponies with the horse-mounted guard. Jouncing around on the back o'some beast didn't sound a bit better to me than sitting in the wagon.

"Faramir will send me regular letters," Aragorn told me after he got Mr. Frodo settled and they said their good-byes, and then he left Gandalf to say good-bye to Mr. Frodo, so's he could talk to me, "and he knows that I expect to hear reports on how the four of you are faring. You are always welcome to write to me, and if you have need of me, you know that you have only to say so. I will come as soon as I may, or Faramir will help you get to me, if that need should arise...but I think all will be well. Fear not, my friend...I think that we shall meet again, and our meeting shall be a happy one!"

Well. I snuffled around and tried to think o'something good to say, but all I could think of was what I said, and that was something like, "Thank you for everything, sir. I reckon we'll be fine."

"I know that you will. I have no fear for Frodo when you are with him."

Well, that set me blinking and snuffling again, and no mistake. I tried to straighten up good before he set me up in the wagon on my cushions next to Mr. Frodo, and I felt heartened, but then I looked down at Mr. Frodo lying there so pale and thin, and I wondered...

Am I doing the right thing?

Am I taking him to die in some far place, a long ways from home?

Or will this be the saving o'him?

Gandalf leaned across the wagon and motioned to me with his finger, and I leaned over.

"Do not fear new adventures, Samwise," he said. "Hope may come in the most surprising of places, as well I think you know."

-to be continued-


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Into the East

Author: Febobe (Frodo Baggins of Bag End)

Rating/Warnings: PG/K+ (graphic food descriptions, some occasionally graphic medical angst - NO CANON CHARACTER DEATH. I promise! It may seem at first that I'm headed that direction, but I absolutely guarantee, NO canon characters will be killed off in this fic!)

Summary: After the Quest, Frodo comes down with a serious illness, and journeys to Harad in search of better health. Told by Samwise.

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Elrond, Eowyn, Faramir, Merry, Pippin, an OC named Kalil (partly in tribute to Claudia's own Khalil), other supporting OCs, brief appearances by Aragorn and Gandalf. Others TBA, if any.

Disclaimer: I do not own and have not created any of J.R.R. Tolkien's work, neither characters nor world nor any of his concepts. I'm just playing in the sandbox, with no ill intent. Original characters, including (but not limited to) Kalil are my own creation, and I would appreciate it if they weren't used without asking. (Unlike Tolkien, I'm not dead!) This fic meets FrodoHealers standards and is free from profanity, sex, and slash.

Notes: Sam lovers, I think this is a fic you'll enjoy, as it strongly features his voice and viewpoint. Frodo lovers, this is definitely a fic you'll enjoy, especially if you're an old-school FrodoHealers fan. Faramir and Eowyn, Merry and Pippin will all have significant roles to play throughout this fic, though it takes a few chapters to get there. Also, please note that I have chosen Indian food for the predominant culinary culture of Harad. I realize that it may well be closer to Middle Eastern cookery, but I wanted to give it a distinctive tie and recognizable flavor, and I chose Indian. No ill will intended if you prefer a different interpretation; just know that this is my interpretation only and I realize it isn't the only potential take on Haradraic food out there. A word about Kalil and the Haradrim: I intend absolutely no disrespect to any culture or language. But the people of Harad _would_ look and seem strange to Sam, Shire hobbit that he is, and more so than the fair-skinned elves and Big Folk he knew well. As for Kalil's language, I realize some people are fluent in multiple languages, but Kalil isn't as fluent as some people. I think he does pretty well myself!

CHAPTER SEVEN

It was a long journey and no mistake.

To be fair, though, it didn't seem any worse than getting from Bree to Elrond's house was, back that fall before, when Mr. Frodo was so bad off and there weren't much we could do. If anything, it was a lot better, 'cause Lady Eowyn sat in the wagon with us, and she had water for Mr. Frodo, and little tidbits o'food we'd try to get him to eat, though he didn't want much of anything to eat, and was real hard to coax. When we'd stop I'd do what Lord Elrond taught me to - turn Mr. Frodo so's he wouldn't get sore places on him from lying in one position too long, and I'd check what they called his "temperature" with that strange instrument Lord Elrond taught us to use, something called a thermometer. He'd taught Mr. Frodo how to hold it under his tongue and taught us both how long I should wait before taking it out and squinting at the numbers on the little glass tube. It worried me an awful lot, and when it read one-oh-three or one-oh-four like it did so often these days, I'd wring out cloths in a bucket o'water, and put compresses on his head to soothe him. Lord Elrond said that might help his fever. I hoped so. I wasn't used to measuring and couldn't see the good in it, but Lord Elrond said if I could tell this Kalil what the instrument said, it might help him know how to help Mr. Frodo better. So I did it real regular.

It was hard on poor Mr. Frodo, all that jouncing about in the wagon, but we made it the best we could for him with cushions and pillows and soft blankets. Even so, he shook and sweated, and half the time he was out o'his head with fever. His cough weren't doing no good, neither, and a day into our journey it started bringing up bloody-streaked gunk. Not much red, mind you, but enough it worried me, and I could tell it kinda bothered Mr. Frodo too.

Well, I didn't know then but what we should have stayed in Minas Tirith. That set me back, and no mistake. But Lady Eowyn was real calm about it, said we shouldn't alarm Mr. Frodo, and just keep things like they were, that soon we'd be in Riavod and he could rest in his bed and the doctor might could help him.

But I could see her eyes.

They were worried.

Real worried.

Well, I understood about not alarming Mr. Frodo, so I kept my trap shut about it all, and kept giving Mr. Frodo sips o'water, and keeping him sponged down when we stopped, and o'course Master Merry and Master Pippin, who rode their ponies along behind us with the rest o'the guard on horseback, would help me and try to talk to Mr. Frodo, tell him stories and sing songs from their tales. They carefully avoided anything about the Quest itself, which made me feel real grateful to them. Instead they'd sing funny songs the men had taught them, or old Shire songs, good comforting things that would either make you laugh or make you smile.

Not that Mr. Frodo did much of either these days.

Well, we jounced around in that cart for a few more days before finally Faramir turned around to us and said, "Look."

I don't reckon even Minas Tirith looked as grand as what rose up before us.

It was a great city, with towers and strange buildings, some o'them round, and that pleased me, being as it reminded me o'the round doors and our holes back home. Big! You never saw someplace so big. And it was busy as we drove through the streets, and there were people everywhere, strange dark-skinned folk in colourful clothes - bright colours like back home, none o'the drab and somber look that the folk o'Minas Tirith had. These folk wore colours like red and orange, blue and green, yellow and purple, and it was a pretty sight.

"We're here, Mr. Frodo," I said to him. "Soon you can rest in your own new bed."

But Mr. Frodo was that tired, he barely even smiled, and didn't even try to look out, and that told me just how poorly he was feeling, 'cause he always did like new places, and was always interested in wherever we went. This time he just barely seemed to be hanging on, and his hand curled around mine felt so weak, like he didn't hardly have the strength to hold my fingers.

Well, we pulled up and stopped in front of a great, grand place, with rounded towers and big doors. I couldn't help hoping we didn't have to go up lots o'them stairs to get where we were going; I never did care much for heights, and Mr. Frodo, he'd have to be carried anyhow, even if we was on the first floor. Faramir helped Lady Eowyn down first, her being his wife and all, and then he got me down and set me on the ground real easy, and then he reached into the wagon for Mr. Frodo, who moaned and whimpered so it fair broke my heart. But he scooped him up real gentle-like, and pulled him close to his chest, so that Mr. Frodo reclined against him and was real secure. He looked so pale I felt my stomach tie up in knots. Surely we didn't come all this way only for him to die our first day here.

And then a dark-skinned servant opened the front door, and Lord Faramir led the way in, and we went inside...

-to be continued-


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Into the East

Author: Febobe (Frodo Baggins of Bag End)

Rating/Warnings: PG/K+ (graphic food descriptions, some occasionally graphic medical angst - NO CANON CHARACTER DEATH. I promise! It may seem at first that I'm headed that direction, but I absolutely guarantee, NO canon characters will be killed off in this fic!)

Summary: After the Quest, Frodo comes down with a serious illness, and journeys to Harad in search of better health. Told by Samwise.

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Elrond, Eowyn, Faramir, Merry, Pippin, an OC named Kalil (partly in tribute to Claudia's own Khalil), other supporting OCs, brief appearances by Aragorn and Gandalf. Others TBA, if any.

Disclaimer: I do not own and have not created any of J.R.R. Tolkien's work, neither characters nor world nor any of his concepts. I'm just playing in the sandbox, with no ill intent. Original characters, including (but not limited to) Kalil are my own creation, and I would appreciate it if they weren't used without asking. (Unlike Tolkien, I'm not dead!) This fic meets FrodoHealers standards and is free from profanity, sex, and slash.

Notes: Sam lovers, I think this is a fic you'll enjoy, as it strongly features his voice and viewpoint. Frodo lovers, this is definitely a fic you'll enjoy, especially if you're an old-school FrodoHealers fan. Faramir and Eowyn, Merry and Pippin will all have significant roles to play throughout this fic, though it takes a few chapters to get there. Also, please note that I have chosen Indian food for the predominant culinary culture of Harad. I realize that it may well be closer to Middle Eastern cookery, but I wanted to give it a distinctive tie and recognizable flavor, and I chose Indian. No ill will intended if you prefer a different interpretation; just know that this is my interpretation only and I realize it isn't the only potential take on Haradraic food out there. A word about Kalil and the Haradrim: I intend absolutely no disrespect to any culture or language. But the people of Harad _would_ look and seem strange to Sam, Shire hobbit that he is, and more so than the fair-skinned elves and Big Folk he knew well. As for Kalil's language, I realize some people are fluent in multiple languages, but Kalil isn't as fluent as some people. I think he does pretty well myself!

CHAPTER EIGHT

Well, it was grand, and no mistake, but I didn't care for nothing to look at 'cept a bed-room, 'cause Mr. Frodo needed bed bad.

We passed through a great hall and went up some stairs, four whole flights, before we went down a long hall and into a room. I reckon Faramir must've said something to the man for him to show us where to go, and he seemed real nice, for all he was so strange-looking, all tanned like that.

The bedroom was real nice, with a great big bed sort o'low to the ground, laid with big fluffy soft pillows and coloured silken cushions - sort o'paisley, some of 'em were, and others soft solid colours, like blue and green. The bed was all made up, ready to tuck Mr. Frodo in, but they laid him down on top o'the cover and started taking off his travelling-cloak.

"I think a bath first - don't you, Sam?" offered Faramir. "If we could have water brought, plenty of warm water - " He looked at the man, who bowed real deep and went off - in search o'water, I reckon. I noticed then there was a corner o'the room set off with curtains, and a big bath-tub over there, and that was a good thing, in my opinion. Faramir stepped back, then, once he had the cloak undone, and let me take over getting Mr. Frodo undressed,which suited me just fine. And Lady Eowyn, she went over to look at the bathing-alcove.

"We're here," Mr. Frodo whispered finally, while I was getting his shirt unbuttoned.

"Yes, Mr. Frodo. We made it." I tried to smile, but he looked so awful white it was hard to feel much hope. "You just lie quiet now, and your Sam'll take care o'you."

He did, letting his eyes flutter closed, and didn't buck me none on nothing. Even with the thermometer packed away still, I could tell he was burning up, and no mistake. But a bath usually seemed to make him feel a little better back in Minas Tirith, so I figured it might be a good idea here, too. It was hot, that much I could tell, though it weren't near as bad inside the house. A good breeze came through the windows, too warm and gentle for Mr. Frodo to take a chill from it, and besides which I figured we could draw the curtain round his bath-tub and it'd be just fine.

Faramir went out o'the room, and I could hear him giving instructions even before he and the man came back with buckets o'warm water, which the man poured into the tub. He pointed something out to Lady Eowyn and it seemed to please her, and she came hurrying over to me with a big smile on her face.

"They have soaps prepared," she said, "and the most pleasant scents you could imagine. Shall I bring a few for Frodo to choose the one he would like?"

Well, I reckoned that would be all right, so I nodded, and she fetched about four different soaps back to the bed and held 'em to Mr. Frodo's nose, one at a time. I could smell 'em too - first one smelled like roses, straight out o'the summer garden, and that was nice. The second one was lavender, and I could tell Mr. Frodo liked that one, 'cause he smiled a little more when he sniffed it, and I remember Mr. Bilbo saying Primula, his mother, used to wear lavender sometimes. The third was peppermint, and it smelled as nice as fresh-bruised mint leaves. He seemed to like that too, but the fourth...it was a strange smell, light and refreshing, and something o'peace about it somehow, something strange and exotic.

"Sandalwood, they call this," Eowyn explained. "It's very nice, isn't it?"

Well, Mr. Frodo agreed that it was, and I thought so too, but he picked out the peppermint one for his bath, and I thought that a fine choice, seeing as how he was so feverish. Mint's good for a fever, and I hoped the minty smell might help clear his poor chest too.

Just then Faramir came over where we were. "Frodo, would you mind terribly if I stole Sam away to help get you something to eat?" he asked. "Eowyn can see to your bath. I promise she will not drop you!"

That set Mr. Frodo to grinning. "That would be fine," he said, "though I really am not hungry..."

My heart wrenched when he said that. He said that far too often these days. And I wanted to stay with him, but Faramir put his big hand on my shoulder.

"Sam, I would not take you from your master, but I fear it is necessary, at least for a while."

I walked out o'the room with him and gave him a look. He spoke again, lowering his voice this time.

"Sam, I apologise, but your master needs something hot and nourishing, and I do not wish to start him with strange tastes and foreign food when he has only just arrived, and is still so very frail. Do you think if I were to help you find the kitchen that you could give some orders and help us cook up something suitable?"

I snorted. "You're asking a hobbit if he can cook? Beggin' your pardon, sir, but I thought you knew us better'n _that_."

He laughed, then, and off we went in search o'the kitchen.

-to be continued-


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Into the East

Author: Febobe (Frodo Baggins of Bag End)

Rating/Warnings: PG/K+ (graphic food descriptions, some occasionally graphic medical angst - NO CANON CHARACTER DEATH. I promise! It may seem at first that I'm headed that direction, but I absolutely guarantee, NO canon characters will be killed off in this fic!)

Summary: After the Quest, Frodo comes down with a serious illness, and journeys to Harad in search of better health. Told by Samwise.

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Elrond, Eowyn, Faramir, Merry, Pippin, an OC named Kalil (partly in tribute to Claudia's own Khalil), other supporting OCs, brief appearances by Aragorn and Gandalf. Others TBA, if any.

Disclaimer: I do not own and have not created any of J.R.R. Tolkien's work, neither characters nor world nor any of his concepts. I'm just playing in the sandbox, with no ill intent. Original characters, including (but not limited to) Kalil are my own creation, and I would appreciate it if they weren't used without asking. (Unlike Tolkien, I'm not dead!) This fic meets FrodoHealers standards and is free from profanity, sex, and slash.

Notes: Sam lovers, I think this is a fic you'll enjoy, as it strongly features his voice and viewpoint. Frodo lovers, this is definitely a fic you'll enjoy, especially if you're an old-school FrodoHealers fan. Faramir and Eowyn, Merry and Pippin will all have significant roles to play throughout this fic, though it takes a few chapters to get there. Also, please note that I have chosen Indian food for the predominant culinary culture of Harad. I realize that it may well be closer to Middle Eastern cookery, but I wanted to give it a distinctive tie and recognizable flavor, and I chose Indian. No ill will intended if you prefer a different interpretation; just know that this is my interpretation only and I realize it isn't the only potential take on Haradraic food out there. A word about Kalil and the Haradrim: I intend absolutely no disrespect to any culture or language. But the people of Harad _would_ look and seem strange to Sam, Shire hobbit that he is, and more so than the fair-skinned elves and Big Folk he knew well. As for Kalil's language, I realize some people are fluent in multiple languages, but Kalil isn't as fluent as some people. I think he does pretty well myself!

CHAPTER NINE

Well, it didn't take us that long to find it, mostly 'cause we met another servant coming down the hall, and he showed us where it was quick enough. It was a big place, with so many pots and pans everywhere - hanging from the ceiling, or stacked beneath tables on low shelves, or sticking out o'great cupboards. Fair did my heart good, it did, seeing all those familiar-looking things in this strange place.

There were foreign servants down there too, dark-skinned like the other folk here, but they lined up right nice when the one who took us told 'em who Faramir was, and apparently who I was too, and they all bowed. He spoke our tongue, plain Common Speech, so I reckoned they must have learned it too. Some of 'em stared at me, but most were polite enough, and they none of 'em said a word.

"They are at your service," said the one man. "All you have to do is ask what you wish, and it shall be done."

Well, I weren't used to that, but I reckoned in this big a kitchen I'd have to have some help, so when Faramir looked at me, I started talking.

"I'll need a stool I can get up on, if you don't mind, and carrots and celery, and a big yellow onion." I waited to see if they knew what I was saying, and thankfully they seemed to, 'cause one brought a tall stool, and two others went and brought back some right pretty vegetables like I wanted. Well, that encouraged me, so I went on. "Is there any chicken stock around, and maybe some chicken I could cut up?"

Well, they pointed to a big pot, and brought out a right pretty chicken from cold storage somewhere along the wall, and then I knew I might be able to make something nice and homey.

"Milk? I only need about a cup. And a bit o'butter."

I kept on asking for stuff, salt and pepper and nutmeg and the like, and sure enough, soon I had everything I needed, so I sat on the stool and cut up some chicken and got one o'them peeling carrots, and another slicing up celery, and somebody chopping that onion, and didn't it feel strange to be giving the orders instead o'taking some. But it was getting things done a sight faster, so I kept talking. Faramir, he just stood there out o'the way and let me do it.

Finally, I got 'em to get me a big ol' pot. It looked right proper, so I had 'em set it on what looked to be a stove and then I got up and stood on that stool, real careful, and melted butter and heated up some oil in it. Then I cooked those pieces o'chicken and added in the stock and carrots, celery and onion, a bit o'parsley, salt, and pepper. Then while that was simmering good, I mixed up milk and nutmeg and a bit o'this and that in a little bowl, and stirred that in so it could thicken up. Before you could say _knife_ I had a nice pot o'creamed chicken soup ready, and dipped Mr. Frodo out a piping hot bowlful, which we put on a real nice tray with a spoon and a cup o'fresh milk and some little triangles o'bread I toasted up and spread a little butter on. It weren't much, but then he hadn't eaten much of anything since we left Minas Tirith, not even that bread we'd brought, and I remembered Aragorn telling us it weren't good to eat too much after days of eating too little.

Faramir carried the tray back up the stairs for me, and we went back to find Mr. Frodo all clean and tucked up in bed, in a clean night-shirt, and Eowyn sitting next to him. He looked a little less peaked, which gave me some heart, so we put that tray down on the bed and I sat down with it.

"Mr. Frodo, sir, d'you think you could try a little soup and toast? There's milk, too. It's just like I make at home, I promise. Chicken and good vegetables and all."

Mr. Frodo looked kind of interested. "That does smell nice, Sam," he said. "Perhaps I could try a little. And to think, you have proven yourself bravest of all in our new home, cooking a homey meal in such a strange place!"

"Anything to help you, sir." And I meant it, too. "Here, let me help you."

Well, I fed him soup and little bites o'toast and sups o'milk, and he ate good for me. Eowyn sat close by, looking ready to take over if I needed her to, and Faramir, he went back out o'the room, after he made sure we didn't need nothing else. But finally he came back, about the time Mr. Frodo was finished.

And he weren't alone.

-to be continued-


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Into the East

Author: Febobe (Frodo Baggins of Bag End)

Rating/Warnings: PG/K+ (graphic food descriptions, some occasionally graphic medical angst - NO CANON CHARACTER DEATH. I promise! It may seem at first that I'm headed that direction, but I absolutely guarantee, NO canon characters will be killed off in this fic!)

Summary: After the Quest, Frodo comes down with a serious illness, and journeys to Harad in search of better health. Told by Samwise.

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Elrond, Eowyn, Faramir, Merry, Pippin, an OC named Kalil (partly in tribute to Claudia's own Khalil), other supporting OCs, brief appearances by Aragorn and Gandalf. Others TBA, if any.

Disclaimer: I do not own and have not created any of J.R.R. Tolkien's work, neither characters nor world nor any of his concepts. I'm just playing in the sandbox, with no ill intent. Original characters, including (but not limited to) Kalil are my own creation, and I would appreciate it if they weren't used without asking. (Unlike Tolkien, I'm not dead!) This fic meets FrodoHealers standards and is free from profanity, sex, and slash.

Notes: Sam lovers, I think this is a fic you'll enjoy, as it strongly features his voice and viewpoint. Frodo lovers, this is definitely a fic you'll enjoy, especially if you're an old-school FrodoHealers fan. Faramir and Eowyn, Merry and Pippin will all have significant roles to play throughout this fic, though it takes a few chapters to get there. Also, please note that I have chosen Indian food for the predominant culinary culture of Harad. I realize that it may well be closer to Middle Eastern cookery, but I wanted to give it a distinctive tie and recognizable flavor, and I chose Indian. No ill will intended if you prefer a different interpretation; just know that this is my interpretation only and I realize it isn't the only potential take on Haradraic food out there. A word about Kalil and the Haradrim: I intend absolutely no disrespect to any culture or language. But the people of Harad _would_ look and seem strange to Sam, Shire hobbit that he is, and more so than the fair-skinned elves and Big Folk he knew well. As for Kalil's language, I realize some people are fluent in multiple languages, but Kalil isn't as fluent as some people. I think he does pretty well myself!

CHAPTER TEN

Faramir had with him a man, a tall, caramel-coloured fellow, who looked like he might be sort o'thin, 'cept in all the strange silk clothes he was dressed in, it was sort o'hard to tell. There was some kind o'headdress on his head, and reckon he looked 'bout as strange as anybody I'd ever seen, 'cept them strange folk fighting in Ithilien, and I reckon that's as close as I'd come. O'course, being as how this was the place they were from, I guess it wasn't no surprise this man was dressed funny too.

Well, Faramir brought the funny-looking man over to Mr. Frodo's bed and asked Eowyn if lunch was finished and she said yes, and then he smiled at us. "This is Kalil," he said. "He is to be your physician, Frodo, if you will permit. I believe King Elessar has spoken of him to you."

Well, I didn't know about letting no foreigner doctor Mr. Frodo, never was real sure about the idea. But Mr. Frodo, now, he was real polite, held out his hand to shake Kalil's, and Kalil, he seemed to know what that was about, and shook Mr. Frodo's hand, and even bowed, real polite-like. And then he started talking to Mr. Frodo, so I just set back and listened. Weren't my place to talk over Mr. Frodo.

"Little master, I would beg permission to have a look at you. That will help me know what to do for you."

"I suppose that would be all right." Eowyn pushed up a chair for him, and he sat down in it, and felt o'Mr. Frodo's forehead. He sort o'frowned, then, which I could understand, and took a bag from his shoulder, and took out one o'them thermometers.

"Little master, if you would please let me put this under your tongue. Then you will hold it in your mouth for me for a few minutes."

I glared at him. "Lord Elrond sent one o'those things with us. I can tell you what his temperature's been the whole journey. Hundred and three in the mornings, hundred and four, sometimes a little more, come afternoons and evenings."

He looked worried, and gave a nod. "You take care of him, no?"

"'Course I do."

Kalil smiled then. "You and I will learn to be good friends. You will be my assistant, and tell me what I need to know. If there is anything you think I should hear, if your master does not tell me, you must."

Well. I reckon that set me feeling a little better about him. We waited, and when it was finally time, he took that thermometer back and read it, and nodded.

"This bears witness to what your friend tells me," he said to Mr. Frodo. "Very high fever. When I finish examining you, we must make you comfortable."

I reckon that sounded promising to Mr. Frodo too, not just me, 'cause he looked interested, and obeyed real good for Kalil while he asked him to stick out his tongue so he could look at it, and let him hold his wrist to check his heart-beat, and then let the fellow open his night-shirt and look at him and listen to his chest with a strange tube-shaped thing and press on his stomach. He had me and him set Mr. Frodo up in bed and listened with that tube-shaped thing to his back while he coughed, too, and rubbed his back real gentle when he kept on coughing. When the fellow was done, he sat back down and got Mr. Frodo all fastened back and covered up.

"Little master does have the consumption, very bad. But we will try and help you." He looked at Faramir. "Ask your men to bring cold water and cloths. We must try to help his fever."

Faramir stepped out o'the room and talked to somebody; I could hear his voice in the hall. Kalil waited till he come back, then went on talking.

"I have sandalwood powder. I will make a paste to put on your forehead. It is good for the fever. And if someone can show me to the kitchen when we are done, I will make medicine for you, raisins and ginger crushed in water."

"And this will help his fever?" asked Eowyn.

Kalil nodded. "Yes, very good for high fever. I will teach you to make it, or make it for you, if you wish. He will need it twice each day. Now, we tend to say very light diet for fever, fruit juices only, till the fever breaks. But little master has bad consumption, very bad. We cannot feed him only fruit juices; he will get weaker. We must feed him good, nourishing food. Meat broths and soups with cooked vegetables. Warm milk. Honey. Soft food, easy for him to eat. Do you understand?"

Well, now, I liked him already after all. He sounded to me like he was talking sense, and I nodded hard's I could.

"Feed him whatever he will eat, but let us give him some new foods to try, things that will help with the sickness. I will teach you warm milk drinks that will help him sleep, and sleep is very good for him. I will teach you good broths with spices. And we must give him orange-juice; orange-juice is very good. It helps the fever and builds up the strength. He will not get colds so easily if he drinks plenty of orange-juice."

"I do love orange-juice," Mr. Frodo said, with more enthusiasm than I'd seen in a while, which made me feel a sight better. That made Kalil smile, showing perfect white teeth, whiter than I'd ever seen on a man.

"Good! It will help you. Here you can have orange-juice whenever you want; here we have lots of oranges. And you may like other fruits too - there is sweet pineapple, and lemons to make refreshing drinks. Limes too."

Well, that seemed to interest Mr. Frodo, but right about then they brought the water and cloths, and Kalil got up and motioned me over to him and started showing me about wringing out the cloths, to make cold compresses.

"We must do this whenever his fever is high," he said. "Any time it is more than a hundred and two, you must put the cold cloths on his forehead, his hands, his belly, and his feet. Keep changing them; they will get warm. This will make his fever come down some." Then he took a little mortar-type o'bowl out o'his bag, like I'd seen Lord Elrond and Aragorn use, and some kind o'powder from a jar too, and he sprinkled some water in on it while I was making compresses and laying them over Mr. Frodo, and he made some kind o'paste. It smelled like one o'them soaps, and it weren't unpleasant, and he lifted the compress and smeared it on Mr. Frodo's brow, then put the cloth back on.

"This will help you feel better," he said. "Maybe not at once, but soon. And it is important you eat and drink, even if you do not feel hungry. You must try. Eat a little if that is all you can eat, but eat whenever you can."

Well. I reckon this fellow had more sense than I'd thought. Sounded smart to me.

"Now, about that bad cough." He looked at Faramir again. "Get someone to bring me honey, and a spoon and cup. And have them get some water to boiling. I need a cup of boiled water too." He looked back at Mr. Frodo. "I give you ground mustard and powdered ginger mixed with honey. We will give you this three times a day until the cough goes away. And I will make you tea - ginger powder again, and a little cinnamon powder and clove. It will ease that cough."

This sounded more hopeful than anything we'd tried back in Minas Tirith, leastways to me. Mr. Frodo didn't seem put out about any of it, and I kept up changing those compresses, and bless my soul if he didn't seem to be a bit cooler to the touch, like the cold water cloths were just pulling the fever out o'him. Kalil bent down by the bed to talk to him.

"Little master, I will not lie to you. You are very sick, very sick indeed. But I will try and help you, and you have good friends who want to help you too. This weather much better for consumption than Gondor. Gondor too damp. Too cool. Harad much better for weak chests and sick people. You soon feel better here and want to eat up plenty. You sit in the sun and breathe in good dry air."

"I should like that," said Mr. Frodo, and he was smiling some, too. Only he got to coughing real bad just then, and it started bringing up some stuff that had blood streaks in it, so I held a hanky for him till it passed. Kalil looked worried.

"Mayhap I find you other medicine too," he said, "strange medicine we not try too often, but something special to help little master."

Well, I didn't know 'bout "strange," but I knew one thing.

Wherever we were now, something had to be done.

-to be continued-


	11. Chapter 11

Title: Into the East

Author: Febobe (Frodo Baggins of Bag End)

Rating/Warnings: PG/K+ (graphic food descriptions, some occasionally graphic medical angst - NO CANON CHARACTER DEATH. I promise! It may seem at first that I'm headed that direction, but I absolutely guarantee, NO canon characters will be killed off in this fic!)

Summary: After the Quest, Frodo comes down with a serious illness, and journeys to Harad in search of better health. Told by Samwise.

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Elrond, Eowyn, Faramir, Merry, Pippin, an OC named Kalil (partly in tribute to Claudia's own Khalil), other supporting OCs, brief appearances by Aragorn and Gandalf. Others TBA, if any.

Disclaimer: I do not own and have not created any of J.R.R. Tolkien's work, neither characters nor world nor any of his concepts. I'm just playing in the sandbox, with no ill intent. Original characters, including (but not limited to) Kalil are my own creation, and I would appreciate it if they weren't used without asking. (Unlike Tolkien, I'm not dead!) This fic meets FrodoHealers standards and is free from profanity, sex, and slash.

Notes: Sam lovers, I think this is a fic you'll enjoy, as it strongly features his voice and viewpoint. Frodo lovers, this is definitely a fic you'll enjoy, especially if you're an old-school FrodoHealers fan. Faramir and Eowyn, Merry and Pippin will all have significant roles to play throughout this fic, though it takes a few chapters to get there. Also, please note that I have chosen Indian food for the predominant culinary culture of Harad. I realize that it may well be closer to Middle Eastern cookery, but I wanted to give it a distinctive tie and recognizable flavor, and I chose Indian. No ill will intended if you prefer a different interpretation; just know that this is my interpretation only and I realize it isn't the only potential take on Haradraic food out there. A word about Kalil and the Haradrim: I intend absolutely no disrespect to any culture or language. But the people of Harad _would_ look and seem strange to Sam, Shire hobbit that he is, and more so than the fair-skinned elves and Big Folk he knew well. As for Kalil's language, I realize some people are fluent in multiple languages, but Kalil isn't as fluent as some people. I think he does pretty well myself!

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Well, Mr. Frodo took another couple coughing spells, but he drank some water for me, and then he seemed a little easier, and Kalil came and talked to him real soft, though I was close enough I could hear.

"Little master, we must keep you quiet in bed for at least a day, so you rest. We give you easy things to swallow and good medicine to make you feel better. You must not try to move much, and let us take care of you. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good." He stroked Mr. Frodo's curls back. "Good little master."

"I'm thirsty," Mr. Frodo said, and Kalil asked Eowyn to get him some more cool water, and she did. I gave it to him real careful, holding his head up just enough for him to drink, tipping the cup to his lips easy. He didn't choke nor nothing, and drank the whole thing down.

About that time the stuff that Kalil asked for got brought in, so he mixed up ginger and mustard and honey and gave Mr. Frodo some o'that on a spoon. Mr. Frodo kind o'wrinkled his nose a little when he took it, but he took it all right and swallowed it down.

"Will you stay with us?" Faramir asked the man. "At least until Frodo is better, though I would prefer it if you would consider moving into the house on a permanent basis, so you can help Frodo whenever he needs you."

"Of course, sir, of course," Kalil said, and he bowed deep to Faramir. "Whatever is desired." He looked at me. "You and I get to know each other. We work together to help little master."

Well, I couldn't help that warming me all through. Taking care o'Mr. Frodo might be my job, but there hadn't never been no Shire remedies I knew of helping consumption, and clearly Mr. Frodo needed somebody helping him who knew loads more about it than I did. So I sort o'smiled at him, and nodded.

"I'll do my best. Where Mr. Frodo's concerned, I expect the best, too."

-to be continued-


	12. Chapter 12

Title: Into the East

Author: Febobe (Frodo Baggins of Bag End)

Rating/Warnings: PG/K+ (graphic food descriptions, some occasionally graphic medical angst - NO CANON CHARACTER DEATH. I promise! It may seem at first that I'm headed that direction, but I absolutely guarantee, NO canon characters will be killed off in this fic!)

Summary: After the Quest, Frodo comes down with a serious illness, and journeys to Harad in search of better health. Told by Samwise.

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Elrond, Eowyn, Faramir, Merry, Pippin, an OC named Kalil (partly in tribute to Claudia's own Khalil), other supporting OCs, brief appearances by Aragorn and Gandalf. Others TBA, if any.

Disclaimer: I do not own and have not created any of J.R.R. Tolkien's work, neither characters nor world nor any of his concepts. I'm just playing in the sandbox, with no ill intent. Original characters, including (but not limited to) Kalil are my own creation, and I would appreciate it if they weren't used without asking. (Unlike Tolkien, I'm not dead!) This fic meets FrodoHealers standards and is free from profanity, sex, and slash.

Notes: Sam lovers, I think this is a fic you'll enjoy, as it strongly features his voice and viewpoint. Frodo lovers, this is definitely a fic you'll enjoy, especially if you're an old-school FrodoHealers fan. Faramir and Eowyn, Merry and Pippin will all have significant roles to play throughout this fic, though it takes a few chapters to get there. Also, please note that I have chosen Indian food for the predominant culinary culture of Harad. I realize that it may well be closer to Middle Eastern cookery, but I wanted to give it a distinctive tie and recognizable flavor, and I chose Indian. No ill will intended if you prefer a different interpretation; just know that this is my interpretation only and I realize it isn't the only potential take on Haradraic food out there. A word about Kalil and the Haradrim: I intend absolutely no disrespect to any culture or language. But the people of Harad _would_ look and seem strange to Sam, Shire hobbit that he is, and more so than the fair-skinned elves and Big Folk he knew well. As for Kalil's language, I realize some people are fluent in multiple languages, but Kalil isn't as fluent as some people. I think he does pretty well myself!

CHAPTER TWELVE

Well, Mr. Frodo seemed real weak all evening, even worse than usual, and Master Merry and Master Pippin came up and wanted to see him, but Faramir told 'em he needed to rest tonight, and maybe tomorrow they could come in, which sounded right smart to me, 'cause they mean well, but Mr. Frodo was in the sort o'state where he didn't need to get excited, or feel like he had to keep people from worrying too much about him.

Kalil stayed on and didn't leave us. He stayed right there by Mr. Frodo's bed, 'cept when he went down to make the medicine for Mr. Frodo's cough, and Faramir went with him, and he made up the medicine and a tea for Mr. Frodo's cough, and gave that to him, and gave him more medicine later.

I let Kalil deal with supper, seeing as how I didn't want to leave Mr. Frodo, and Eowyn went to help him, and he made some kind o'chicken broth with spices that smelled real nice. I fed Mr. Frodo a little o'that, and a little more later on, and he seemed real fond of it, and the second time he even asked for more, so we got him a bit more and that made him happy. I reckon it might have hurt me a little he didn't ask for more o'what I fixed, but I was just so glad he was eating something I didn't let it bother me none. Kalil said we ought to keep him on liquids for the rest o'the day, maybe the next day too, till he perked up a little, and that seemed all right to me, so long's we didn't keep him from solid food too long. I'd seen what that did to him in Minas Tirith, and it hadn't helped him none, though goodness knows it weren't lack o'trying that kept him mostly on liquids.

Mr. Frodo was real sick with fever that night, but his cough seemed a mite better to me, and Kalil sat up with us, and made a drink with hot milk, with some stuff he said was pistachios and poppy seeds, that put Mr. Frodo to sleep finally. We made Faramir and Eowyn go sleep in their room. They made me go and look at mine, right next to Mr. Frodo's, with a big bed o'my own, but they made me and Kalil beds on nice little couches they had carried in and set in Mr. Frodo's room, where we could be right there close, and one o'us always sitting with him. I didn't much want to go to sleep and leave Mr. Frodo with that strange foreigner, but Faramir said he would trust him with his life, and Kalil said it weren't healthy to not sleep, that I'd be no use to Mr. Frodo if I wore myself out and got sick too, and that last part, that was what made me finally lie down somewhere around two that morning, just for a short rest.

Well, I don't reckon I woke up till eight in the morning, and by then Eowyn was there, feeding Mr. Frodo porridge and orange-juice, and he was eating for her, if kind o'slowly. So I sat there and ate the breakfast she'd been nice enough to bring me too - fried eggs, orange-juice, a dish o'strange fruit, and some odd kind o'bread, like a ball with air in it, some kind they made here. I made up my mind I'd have to see about baking real bread, but this weren't half bad. Tasted all right, if a little plain.

I finished up and washed up, and went over to see how things was going, and Eowyn smiled, but I could see the worry in her eyes.

"He isn't feeling very well today," she said, "and I think he's still tired out from the journey."

I sat down beside him and felt o'his cheek, and sure enough he was still burning up. I guess a part o'me had been hoping he'd recover overnight, once we got here, but I remembered what Lord Elrond said about good cures taking time, and time being the best healer, and how long it had taken him to get strong again after his wound, and how it had taken even longer for him to start looking at all well after our journey. So this, I reckoned, might take a long time too.

"I'm here, Mr. Frodo," I said. "Anything you want me to do, you just say the word."

He smiled a little, but he didn't seem to feel much like talking, so I just held his hand and sat there with him. Kalil had gone to wash up himself while Eowyn fed him, and now he came back.

"Little master, can you open your mouth for me?"

Mr. Frodo obeyed, and Kalil put that thermometer back under his tongue, and he lay there holding it. When Kalil took it out and read it, he looked real worried.

"Little master must not get up today," he said. "Fever very bad. I go make him more broth."

And off he went, down to the kitchen I reckon, leaving me and Eowyn with Mr. Frodo, who just closed his eyes and lay real still, 'cept for those awful coughing fits he kept taking.

Only he didn't stay quiet long.

-to be continued-


	13. Chapter 13

Title: Into the East

Author: Febobe (Frodo Baggins of Bag End)

Rating/Warnings: PG/K+ (graphic food descriptions, some occasionally graphic medical angst - NO CANON CHARACTER DEATH. I promise! It may seem at first that I'm headed that direction, but I absolutely guarantee, NO canon characters will be killed off in this fic!)

Summary: After the Quest, Frodo comes down with a serious illness, and journeys to Harad in search of better health. Told by Samwise.

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Elrond, Eowyn, Faramir, Merry, Pippin, an OC named Kalil (partly in tribute to Claudia's own Khalil), other supporting OCs, brief appearances by Aragorn and Gandalf. Others TBA, if any.

Disclaimer: I do not own and have not created any of J.R.R. Tolkien's work, neither characters nor world nor any of his concepts. I'm just playing in the sandbox, with no ill intent. Original characters, including (but not limited to) Kalil are my own creation, and I would appreciate it if they weren't used without asking. (Unlike Tolkien, I'm not dead!) This fic meets FrodoHealers standards and is free from profanity, sex, and slash.

Notes: Sam lovers, I think this is a fic you'll enjoy, as it strongly features his voice and viewpoint. Frodo lovers, this is definitely a fic you'll enjoy, especially if you're an old-school FrodoHealers fan. Faramir and Eowyn, Merry and Pippin will all have significant roles to play throughout this fic, though it takes a few chapters to get there. Also, please note that I have chosen Indian food for the predominant culinary culture of Harad. I realize that it may well be closer to Middle Eastern cookery, but I wanted to give it a distinctive tie and recognizable flavor, and I chose Indian. No ill will intended if you prefer a different interpretation; just know that this is my interpretation only and I realize it isn't the only potential take on Haradraic food out there. A word about Kalil and the Haradrim: I intend absolutely no disrespect to any culture or language. But the people of Harad _would_ look and seem strange to Sam, Shire hobbit that he is, and more so than the fair-skinned elves and Big Folk he knew well. As for Kalil's language, I realize some people are fluent in multiple languages, but Kalil isn't as fluent as some people. I think he does pretty well myself!

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Toward the middle o'the morning, Mr. Frodo opened his eyes again, but this time it were like he weren't seeing me, nor Eowyn, nor where we were.

"Sam?" he said.

"I'm here, sir."

"Sam, we must get there..how much farther is it, do you think? And no water left. It's so hot here."

"Sir, we ain't in Mordor no more. You're safe in your own bed."

"No - Sam, Sam, don't leave me - "

"I'm not leaving you, sir. I'm staying right here."

Well, that upset Eowyn so much she got up and said she was going to get Kalil, and I didn't buck her, 'cause I figured Mr. Frodo needed a doctor bad, with the fever driving him out o'his head like this, so I gave him some water and tried to get him to take little sips, and sort o'played along.

"There now, sir, there's water. I've got more. Just you drink up. There's plenty."

He drank up for me, thankfully, but he was burning up something awful; I could feel it. I didn't reckon I'd ever seen him this bad sick, though he'd been real bad with his wound, and he'd been right sick still when I woke up, after all of it, in bed with high fevers for days after I was up walking around.

But he hadn't never been this bad.

Kalil came running back in, followed by Eowyn, and felt o'Mr. Frodo's forehead. He tried to get Mr. Frodo to let him put the thermometer in his mouth, but Mr. Frodo weren't having none o'that, and wouldn't let him, kept trying to hit him like he thought the fellow was trying to hurt him. Kalil looked at me.

"Sam, can you hold him down for me? I have to check his temperature, but I cannot do it in the usual way."

Well, I'd seen Lord Elrond and Aragorn a time or two when Mr. Frodo was so sick he had to sleep all the time, or weren't in his head proper, so I had a notion what he was about. "Reckon I can, sir. I'll do my best."

He motioned Eowyn over and started fishing round in his bag. "Mistress, I need you to help hold him, too. Hold his legs. He will fight."

Knowing what was going to be done, I couldn't say as I blamed him, but I got up where I could hold his arms and body, while Eowyn got hold o'his legs. He didn't seem to mind it much till Kalil started poking that other kind o'thermometer up his backside, and then he fought like a wild animal, trying to jerk his arms free and kick his legs, and it took everything Eowyn and I had just to keep him from hitting Kalil, or kicking him, or us either, and I just kept talking to him real low and gentle, trying to calm him down, until finally he lay still and Kalil was able to get what he needed.

But he looked real worried.

"His fever is very high," he told us, "more than a hundred and five. I do not know what is going on in his chest, but I know it cannot be good. We must get him into a cool bath."

Eowyn ran off and got the servants to bring cool water while I got Mr. Frodo undressed, which weren't no easy task, and Kalil tested it when it got there, made sure it weren't too warm or too cold, and once the tub was filled up, he lifted Mr. Frodo in his arms and carried him to the tub, Mr. Frodo fighting him all the way. But he was so weak and small next to Kalil that none o'his fighting did much to slow things down.

Well, Kalil set him down in the water, and he started crying, and I hurried over there and started talking to try and calm him down.

"Mr. Frodo, sir, it's all right. You're safe. You're real sick, but we're going to take care o'you. It's me, Sam, your Sam, and that's Lady Eowyn over there; she loves you, remember? And this is just your doctor here, and he wants to help you. It'll be all right. Just you relax now."

He must've understood some o'that, 'cause he stopped fighting, though he was still sniffling a little, and coughing, great hollow coughs that seemed fit to rip the life out o'him, so bad you could hear how tore up his chest was, like with pneumonia, only worse. Kalil and Eowyn tried to give him a bath while I talked to him, and stroked his hair, which was soaked through with sweat, dripping wet.

Finally Kalil said we could take him back to bed, and Eowyn got a great big towel for Kalil to wrap him in, and I straightened up the bed a bit, and we took him back and put him to bed with cold cloths all over him and just a light sheet to cover him. He didn't shake none, which I reckoned was a good thing, but he was breathing real fast and ragged, and he still seemed pretty much out o'it.

And I was afraid.

Very afraid.

-to be continued-


	14. Chapter 14

Title: Into the East

Author: Febobe (Frodo Baggins of Bag End)

Rating/Warnings: PG/K+ (graphic food descriptions, some occasionally graphic medical angst - NO CANON CHARACTER DEATH. I promise! It may seem at first that I'm headed that direction, but I absolutely guarantee, NO canon characters will be killed off in this fic!)

Summary: After the Quest, Frodo comes down with a serious illness, and journeys to Harad in search of better health. Told by Samwise.

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Elrond, Eowyn, Faramir, Merry, Pippin, an OC named Kalil (partly in tribute to Claudia's own Khalil), other supporting OCs, brief appearances by Aragorn and Gandalf. Others TBA, if any.

Disclaimer: I do not own and have not created any of J.R.R. Tolkien's work, neither characters nor world nor any of his concepts. I'm just playing in the sandbox, with no ill intent. Original characters, including (but not limited to) Kalil are my own creation, and I would appreciate it if they weren't used without asking. (Unlike Tolkien, I'm not dead!) This fic meets FrodoHealers standards and is free from profanity, sex, and slash.

Notes: Sam lovers, I think this is a fic you'll enjoy, as it strongly features his voice and viewpoint. Frodo lovers, this is definitely a fic you'll enjoy, especially if you're an old-school FrodoHealers fan. Faramir and Eowyn, Merry and Pippin will all have significant roles to play throughout this fic, though it takes a few chapters to get there. Also, please note that I have chosen Indian food for the predominant culinary culture of Harad. I realize that it may well be closer to Middle Eastern cookery, but I wanted to give it a distinctive tie and recognizable flavor, and I chose Indian. No ill will intended if you prefer a different interpretation; just know that this is my interpretation only and I realize it isn't the only potential take on Haradraic food out there. A word about Kalil and the Haradrim: I intend absolutely no disrespect to any culture or language. But the people of Harad _would_ look and seem strange to Sam, Shire hobbit that he is, and more so than the fair-skinned elves and Big Folk he knew well. As for Kalil's language, I realize some people are fluent in multiple languages, but Kalil isn't as fluent as some people. I think he does pretty well myself!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Kalil had strange cushions brought in, with holes in 'em, like they was made that way, and put 'em under Mr. Frodo's heels and elbows, real gentle. He said them strange cushions would help keep the bed from rubbing sores on Mr. Frodo's poor thin body, and showed me a place or two on his hips we'd need to take special care with, 'cause those places were already getting red and sore. He tried to get Mr. Frodo to swallow a little more medicine and some o'that tea, but Mr. Frodo, he weren't having none of it.

"Here, sir, let me try." I took the spoon o'medicine. "Mr. Frodo, sir, now you've got to swallow this medicine for me. It'll make you feel better. Please try?"

Well, that did it. He opened up and let me give him the medicine, and swallowed it pretty as you please, so I tried with the tea.

"A little more, sir, just a few sips."

He drank that, too. "Sam?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Sam...I'm so thirsty, Sam..."

I gave him some water. "I'm right here, sir."

"How...much...farther?"

I knew then he still weren't in his right mind, and was thinking we was back in Mordor, trying to get to that mountain.

"Humour him," Kalil whispered to me. So I did.

"Not too far, sir, but we can't go any farther today. So you just rest here now, and your Sam'll take good care o'you."

He sighed, then, and lay still, his breathing slowing down a little, though he reached up to his neck, where the Queen had gave him that gem, and clung to it for dear life. I think he still thought it was the Ring, but long as it gave him comfort, I weren't going to tell him otherwise.

I was right worried about Mr. Frodo. I couldn't never remember seeing him this out o'his head, and I couldn't hardly remember a time when I didn't take care o'him. First winter he was at Bag End, he took sick with the Northfarthing flu and Mr. Bilbo called for Mam to come up and help nurse him, he was that scared o'hurting Mr. Frodo. Well, I'd already had the Northfarthing flu, so Mam took me with her to help out, though I was young still, only about ten or so. But in our house, you were old enough to help soon's your feet hit the floor, so I went with her.

I still remember how sick Mr. Frodo was, all tucked up in his big bed, trying to toss the covers off and not wanting to eat a bite, and thin as a willow-wand. I hadn't never seen no hobbit that thin. Mam put plasters on his chest and bruised mint in steaming bowls o'water and made him breathe it in, and she got me in the kitchen working on some mushroom soup, 'cause Mr. Bilbo said he were exceptionally fond o'mushrooms, even for a hobbit, and we reckoned that might get him to eat. I'd been cooking in some fashion for half my life already, so I didn't reckon it were that much work to stand on a little step-stool and make soup, but it worked. Mr. Frodo ate up half a bowlful for Mam once I had it made, and started asking for soup now and then, so I kept a pot made up all hours, just in case we could get a few mouthfuls down him. We got him through that bout and stayed on till he was up and about again, and Mr. Bilbo felt like he could take care o'him proper.

I wished and wished it were still that simple.

"Sam," Eowyn said, real quiet next to me, "is there anything you can think of that we could do to make Frodo more comfortable?"

I knew then what she meant. She was afraid Mr. Frodo was dying, and I was afraid too. I turned around and looked at her, and she looked real worried. "I don't know. I ain't never seen him this sick, I don't reckon."

"I know, Sam. I know." She hugged me, but there were tears in her eyes. "I want you to sit here with your master, and try to make him feel safe, and I will go fetch Faramir. He will want to know. Merry and Pippin as well."

I nodded, snuffling. I was afraid maybe this was it, but I couldn't think o'just letting it pass. Mr. Frodo had fought too long and too hard to die here, his first full day in this strange foreign place.

I wouldn't let him.

I looked up at Kalil. "Begging your pardon, sir, but if you could go and make more o'that hot milk drink you made for him last night, I'd like to try and get that down him. He's a hobbit, and half his problem is he's not getting enough nourishment, so let's start with that. I'll sit with him." Kalil looked at me kind o'funny, but he got up and went, and I leaned over to talk to Mr. Frodo.

"Now, Mr. Frodo, you know you can do this. You have to fight. You have to try and get better, 'cause people need you. We aren't giving up on you, so don't you give up on us! Hold on. I'm right here."

Well, his hand tightened its grip on mine. I knew better than to think that meant he knew exactly what I was saying, but I wanted to believe maybe he did know, so I kept talking.

"Don't you want to see all the strange people here? And the markets, with all that good fruit and things to eat? I hear tell they even cook mushrooms a different way here, with spices and stuff. Wouldn't you like to taste that?"

Merry and Pippin hurried in, and they both looked white as ghosts. I kind o'motioned them over. "Talk to him," I said, "only don't say nothing bad, 'cause I don't want him giving up now!"

Merry seemed to understand first, and gave a firm nod. "Frodo," he said, kneeling down beside the bed, "you can't give up. We've only just gotten here, and we don't know how to talk to people like you do, or what things are. You've always been better at learning new people and places than I have. I need you to hold on...but mostly, I _want_ you to. You're very dear to me, cousin."

Well, Master Pippin, he looked like he was half ready to cry, but he bucked up real fast, and sat down cross-legged on the floor by the head o'the bed. "That's right!" he said. "Frodo, I haven't anyone who understands me here, not the way you do. Merry half treats me like a faunt still, and you know I get on Sam's nerves sometimes, and I can't talk to other people the way I can you. And I miss you. You have to get better so I can show you the market. It's huge! And they have the loveliest food there, like nothing you've ever seen. I know you're tired, but please try."

Just then Mr. Frodo took his other hand and reached out for Pippin. He was still weak as a kitten, and his eyes were closed, but I reckon he could hear Pippin's voice, and he put out his hand, and Pippin took it in both o'his, rubbing it real gentle.

Slowly Mr. Frodo's big blue eyes opened.

"I'm tired," he murmured.

"I know, Mr. Frodo, dear," I said. "But we don't want you to do anything other than rest, and try to get better. Now, in just a few minutes here, I'm going to have some milk for you, a warm drink, and I want you to sup it all down for me. And later I'll have something more for you, and I want you to drink that up too. Do you think you can do that?"

"I'll...try..." Mr. Frodo clung to my hand for dear life. "Sam?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Tell me again...about...Nine-fingered Frodo."

Well, that set my jaw dropping, but Mr. Frodo smiled a little, and that set my jaw dropping so far I 'bout needed my hands to pick it up.

"Are you sure, sir?"

"Of course...I'm...sure. Pippin...could...use...a good...story."

Pippin grinned, then, for all he still looked like he might cry, and Merry nodded.

"Go on, then, Sam. Let's hear it."

"Well, I can't tell it like them minstrels do, but let me see..."

-to be continued-


	15. Chapter 15

Title: Into the East

Author: Febobe (Frodo Baggins of Bag End)

Rating/Warnings: PG/K+ (graphic food descriptions, some occasionally graphic medical angst - NO CANON CHARACTER DEATH. I promise! It may seem at first that I'm headed that direction, but I absolutely guarantee, NO canon characters will be killed off in this fic!)

Summary: After the Quest, Frodo comes down with a serious illness, and journeys to Harad in search of better health. Told by Samwise.

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Elrond, Eowyn, Faramir, Merry, Pippin, an OC named Kalil (partly in tribute to Claudia's own Khalil), other supporting OCs, brief appearances by Aragorn and Gandalf. Others TBA, if any.

Disclaimer: I do not own and have not created any of J.R.R. Tolkien's work, neither characters nor world nor any of his concepts. I'm just playing in the sandbox, with no ill intent. Original characters, including (but not limited to) Kalil are my own creation, and I would appreciate it if they weren't used without asking. (Unlike Tolkien, I'm not dead!) This fic meets FrodoHealers standards and is free from profanity, sex, and slash.

Notes: Sam lovers, I think this is a fic you'll enjoy, as it strongly features his voice and viewpoint. Frodo lovers, this is definitely a fic you'll enjoy, especially if you're an old-school FrodoHealers fan. Faramir and Eowyn, Merry and Pippin will all have significant roles to play throughout this fic, though it takes a few chapters to get there. Also, please note that I have chosen Indian food for the predominant culinary culture of Harad. I realize that it may well be closer to Middle Eastern cookery, but I wanted to give it a distinctive tie and recognizable flavor, and I chose Indian. No ill will intended if you prefer a different interpretation; just know that this is my interpretation only and I realize it isn't the only potential take on Haradraic food out there. A word about Kalil and the Haradrim: I intend absolutely no disrespect to any culture or language. But the people of Harad _would_ look and seem strange to Sam, Shire hobbit that he is, and more so than the fair-skinned elves and Big Folk he knew well. As for Kalil's language, I realize some people are fluent in multiple languages, but Kalil isn't as fluent as some people. I think he does pretty well myself!

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Well, I reckon I sat there and talked about our journey for a solid hour. Kalil brought that milk up for Mr. Frodo and I gave it to him, helping him take slow sips till it was all gone, and then I let Kalil join us for more o'the story. Every now and then Mr. Frodo would put in, and correct me, or add something, and that made me feel better, 'cause at least he seemed to be in his right mind enough to know we was telling the story and not _there_.

I'd got through the boat and the mountains and Gollum and the Dead Marshes and Ithilien and the rabbit stew and Faramir and his men, all the way up to the part about that awful spider, when Mr. Frodo spoke again, and at first it was so quiet I didn't reckon I could tell what he said, so I apologized and asked him to tell me again.

"I'm...hungry."

Well, if my jaw didn't go straight through the floor that time! "What do you fancy, sir?"

"Nothing...much. Soup, or...some broth...and maybe...more milk..."

I was that afraid to leave him still, so I looked at Merry. "Would you?"

"Of course. I'll be right back."

Eowyn and Kalil got up and went with him, and Faramir stepped out into the hall, and that left me and Master Pippin with Mr. Frodo, and I know I must've been grinning ear to ear, I was that pleased.

"Do you want me to go on, sir? Master Merry's gone to see about getting you something. He'll be back soon."

Mr. Frodo shook his head. "Wait," he said. "When...he's back...go on." He kind o'squinted, like he was trying to work out something. "What...time...is it?"

"I don't rightly know, sir. Past midday."

"I think it's nearly tea-time," said Pippin. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired." Mr. Frodo shifted position a little. "And thirsty."

I gave him some more water, and he seemed to like that. "Is there anything else I can do for you, sir, to make you feel easier?"

He coughed. "Perhaps some candied ginger, if there's any about."

Well, I knew right where we'd put that, so I got him a bite o'that, and slipped it into his mouth. He sort o'smiled.

"Thank you, Sam... That's lovely..."

"Just you rest, sir. Master Merry, he'll be back soon, with something good for you."

"I'm sure..."

Well, we sat there, real quiet, till we heard footsteps, and finally Lady Eowyn opened the door and let in Kalil and Master Merry, Kalil with a big tray, and Master Merry looking pleased as punch.

"Hullo, Frodo!" he said, real cheerful. "I've made a soup for for you: lamb and barley, with good vegetables in it. And some toast: there's a market here that sells the sort of bread we like, plain white loaves. I've toasted a bit for you, and cut the crusts off and all. There's rice-pudding, too, and some milk, warmed and sweetened with a bit of honey. And if you feel up to it, I'll cream some mushrooms for your supper later. How does that sound?"

"Lovely, Merry. Sam?"

"Right here, sir." I was already working on his pillows, propping him up so's he could see the tray and so's I could feed him real easy, without him choking. "Now, what d'you want first? That soup smells like it's good and hot. Do you good, sir."

He nodded. "Soup, yes, please."

Kalil set the tray down real easy, and I took the spoon and fed him a little soup, and kept alternating that with sips o'milk, and that seemed to go down easy enough. Merry had cooked everything real tender and soft, so he was able to eat it, and when we finished about half that soup, he decided he'd like a little toast circle, so I fed him one o'those, and then he wanted to try the rice pudding, so I gave him a few spoonfuls o'that till he said he was full, and could he please have the rest o'the milk. He drank that up, and I was right pleased with how he'd done, considering how sick he was. Kalil looked right pleased, too, and I couldn't say as I blamed him.

"Go on," Mr. Frodo said. "Tell the rest of the story. Merry's back."

So I started back up, and Kalil and Eowyn took away the tray, and we sat there talking the rest o'the afternoon.

And not a word about missing tea from anyone. We were all just so happy to see Mr. Frodo eat, I reckon, that nobody cared.

Some things weren't so important after all.

-to be continued-


	16. Chapter 16

Title: Into the East

Author: Febobe (Frodo Baggins of Bag End)

Rating/Warnings: PG/K+ (graphic food descriptions, some occasionally graphic medical angst - NO CANON CHARACTER DEATH. I promise! It may seem at first that I'm headed that direction, but I absolutely guarantee, NO canon characters will be killed off in this fic!)

Summary: After the Quest, Frodo comes down with a serious illness, and journeys to Harad in search of better health. Told by Samwise.

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Elrond, Eowyn, Faramir, Merry, Pippin, an OC named Kalil (partly in tribute to Claudia's own Khalil), other supporting OCs, brief appearances by Aragorn and Gandalf. Others TBA, if any.

Disclaimer: I do not own and have not created any of J.R.R. Tolkien's work, neither characters nor world nor any of his concepts. I'm just playing in the sandbox, with no ill intent. Original characters, including (but not limited to) Kalil are my own creation, and I would appreciate it if they weren't used without asking. (Unlike Tolkien, I'm not dead!) This fic meets FrodoHealers standards and is free from profanity, sex, and slash.

Notes: Sam lovers, I think this is a fic you'll enjoy, as it strongly features his voice and viewpoint. Frodo lovers, this is definitely a fic you'll enjoy, especially if you're an old-school FrodoHealers fan. Faramir and Eowyn, Merry and Pippin will all have significant roles to play throughout this fic, though it takes a few chapters to get there. Also, please note that I have chosen Indian food for the predominant culinary culture of Harad. I realize that it may well be closer to Middle Eastern cookery, but I wanted to give it a distinctive tie and recognizable flavor, and I chose Indian. No ill will intended if you prefer a different interpretation; just know that this is my interpretation only and I realize it isn't the only potential take on Haradraic food out there. A word about Kalil and the Haradrim: I intend absolutely no disrespect to any culture or language. But the people of Harad _would_ look and seem strange to Sam, Shire hobbit that he is, and more so than the fair-skinned elves and Big Folk he knew well. As for Kalil's language, I realize some people are fluent in multiple languages, but Kalil isn't as fluent as some people. I think he does pretty well myself!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Sure enough, Master Merry left us toward the late afternoon, and went downstairs to cream mushrooms for Mr. Frodo. Master Pippin stayed with us, and he took to telling his adventures, his and Master Merry's, and that seemed to sit real well with Mr. Frodo, who smiled sometimes, and once we even got a little laugh out o'him, though he was so weak he took to coughing, and Master Pippin tried to make the rest as unfunny as he could so's not to get him coughing again.

Master Merry came back, and made me go eat supper with Lord Faramir and Lady Eowyn, which I didn't much want to do, but seeing as how I hadn't really eaten much all day I figured I didn't have much choice. For Mr. Frodo he'd brought creamed mushrooms over toast points, a good chicken broth with vegetables and bits o'meat, and something called sweet rice with milk, which sounded nourishing and good, like something Mr. Frodo would like. He promised he'd send Pippin running for me if Mr. Frodo turned bad worse, and said he'd feed him himself, and Mr. Frodo said that was all right, so I went on.

Well, we had a fine spread set out for us, though it seemed all strange to me: foreign food, real spicy-smelling, though I couldn't say as it smelled bad, 'cause it didn't. We started out with spicy batter-coated fish on long sticks, them skewer things, and some kind o'nuts with salt and pepper. Then we had this nutty-tasting lamb with what Lord Faramir said was a roasted poppy seed sauce, and fragrant-smelling rice, and mushrooms too, only they was in a sauce o'poppy seeds too, with almonds. For bread, we had this flat bread with mint and onion, which weren't half bad once you ate it with the lamb and sauce.

For a while none of us talked, but finally Lord Faramir looked at me, and I knew we couldn't avoid it no longer.

"How is Frodo?" he said quietly.

"Not doing too well, but better'n he was. I thought sure we was going to lose him today."

"He was so pale," Lady Eowyn said. "And I've never seen him out of his head like that before."

Lord Faramir nodded. "The fever seems to be getting worse. I hope Kalil can help him."

"He ain't been so bad since that bath this morning." I poked at my mushrooms. "Just a little while after that, he started getting better. That's the first time I've known him to ask me to tell about us, and all we went through."

"A good sign, then," said Lord Faramir. "Perhaps tomorrow will be better."

"I hope so," I answered. "I don't reckon it could get too much worse, 'cept ways I don't want to think about."

For dessert, there was this sweet creamy stuff cut into little diamond shapes, a whole plateful for each person, and we ate it slowly, it was that rich.

"Sam," Lord Faramir said finally, "if we were to take dinner a little later in the evening - say, an hour and a half, or two hours, after you feed your master - would you be willing to join us at the table?"

I about fell out o'my chair. "Oh, sir, I couldn't, not with Mr. Frodo so sick and not able to come - "

"Sam, it would do you good. When Frodo feels better, we shall eat earlier again and he may join us."

Lady Eowyn looked at me with those pleading eyes o'hers. "Would you? It would mean so much to us. And to Frodo as well, I think, for he wishes you to be honoured and cared for as well."

Well, I didn't hardly know what to say to that, but I didn't think I could refuse. Still... "What about Master Merry and Master Pippin?"

"They will be invited as well, though I know you will want to take turns sitting with Frodo, so that one of you will always be with him." Lord Faramir smiled. "But whomever is not sitting with Frodo may join us at the table, and we will make certain that the person who cannot be there can eat beforehand."

I reckoned that settled it, then. "I reckon I could come."

"Good." Lord Faramir rose, since we was all done eating. "I shall expect you tomorrow night, then. If you need anything when I am not looking in on Frodo, tell Eowyn. She will make certain that all of you have what you need."

"Thank you, sir." I bowed. "Good evening to you."

-to be continued-


	17. Chapter 17

Title: Into the East

Author: Febobe (Frodo Baggins of Bag End)

Rating/Warnings: PG/K+ (graphic food descriptions, some occasionally graphic medical angst - NO CANON CHARACTER DEATH. I promise! It may seem at first that I'm headed that direction, but I absolutely guarantee, NO canon characters will be killed off in this fic!)

Summary: After the Quest, Frodo comes down with a serious illness, and journeys to Harad in search of better health. Told by Samwise.

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Elrond, Eowyn, Faramir, Merry, Pippin, an OC named Kalil (partly in tribute to Claudia's own Khalil), other supporting OCs, brief appearances by Aragorn and Gandalf. Others TBA, if any.

Disclaimer: I do not own and have not created any of J.R.R. Tolkien's work, neither characters nor world nor any of his concepts. I'm just playing in the sandbox, with no ill intent. Original characters, including (but not limited to) Kalil are my own creation, and I would appreciate it if they weren't used without asking. (Unlike Tolkien, I'm not dead!) This fic meets FrodoHealers standards and is free from profanity, sex, and slash.

Notes: Sam lovers, I think this is a fic you'll enjoy, as it strongly features his voice and viewpoint. Frodo lovers, this is definitely a fic you'll enjoy, especially if you're an old-school FrodoHealers fan. Faramir and Eowyn, Merry and Pippin will all have significant roles to play throughout this fic, though it takes a few chapters to get there. Also, please note that I have chosen Indian food for the predominant culinary culture of Harad. I realize that it may well be closer to Middle Eastern cookery, but I wanted to give it a distinctive tie and recognizable flavor, and I chose Indian. No ill will intended if you prefer a different interpretation; just know that this is my interpretation only and I realize it isn't the only potential take on Haradraic food out there. A word about Kalil and the Haradrim: I intend absolutely no disrespect to any culture or language. But the people of Harad _would_ look and seem strange to Sam, Shire hobbit that he is, and more so than the fair-skinned elves and Big Folk he knew well. As for Kalil's language, I realize some people are fluent in multiple languages, but Kalil isn't as fluent as some people. I think he does pretty well myself!

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Well, that night went a sight better, I reckon, than the one before. Mr. Frodo mostly slept, and though he was still real feverish, he mostly stayed real quiet 'cept for his cough. Lady Eowyn and Kalil took turn about sitting with us and they finally talked me into lying down some time after midnight, and when I woke up Master Merry and Master Pippin had already been downstairs, making creamed mushrooms on toast for all of us, Mr. Frodo included, and bless me if Master Pippin didn't take charge o'getting Mr. Frodo fed, and did a right nice job o'that too.

"Pippin heard that they have fresh shrimp at the market," Master Merry explained to me while Mr. Frodo was eating, "and he's sent someone to buy the best they can find. He thinks that might perk Frodo's appetite up a little; remember how he always liked them in Minas Tirith?"

I never did know quite how I felt about them shrimp things, since I'd seen 'em before their legs and heads and all got taken off, and even then, with the tails, they still didn't look like nothing I'd want to put in my mouth, but Mr. Frodo, true enough, had been right fond o'them. I didn't know about giving him something like that when he was so poorly, but he had to eat something, and I'd a'given my right arm to see him interested in food like he used to be. So I nodded.

"Might as well. I don't know how he'll take to 'em now, but it can't hurt to try."

"Pippin knows how they fried them in Minas Tirith, the way Frodo liked them then, and how to make the sauce. And here there are plenty of lemons to serve in wedges with it. That'll be nice." Master Merry patted me on the back. "Don't fret, Sam. We'll help you with him. You don't have to do it alone any more."

Well, I reckon that about set me to snuffling, but I bucked up and tried not to get teary. I'd had to do for Mr. Frodo alone that last part o'the way, and I'd got so used to it that it was hard now to let people help. But Master Merry and Master Pippin were his kin, and I didn't reckon I ought to shut family out, and they'd been brave enough to come with us, now, hadn't they? At least they did care, and that was better than if they didn't.

"I was thinking," Master Merry said, glancing over like he was making sure Mr. Frodo was still busy eating, "that maybe Frodo would show more interest in food if we could start giving him some of what they make here. He always was fascinated by foreign food - remember?"

"I remember, sir." I did. In Rivendell, he weren't that interested in eating, not till Lord Elrond started bringing in dishes that were specialties there, things he hadn't never seen before, and then he got real interested in eating. He'd liked trying new stuff in Minas Tirith, too, like that shrimp, and lobsters too, and sometimes I could get him to eat that when he didn't feel much up to anything else. It was Mr. Frodo's way to be curious about new places and new ways o'doing things. I was used to that by now, so I knew Master Merry had a point.

"Why don't we talk to Kalil about it? He'll have some good suggestions for starters, I'm sure. He came up with that sweet rice with milk last night, and Frodo ate every last bite, I tell you. He even wanted to know could we have it again today. Of course I told him we could. Kalil says it's not so hard to make. He's going to teach me how to make it, and Pippin too, because we'd like to learn."

Well, now, that was promising enough. "I reckon it couldn't hurt."

Once we all got breakfast finished up, I told Master Pippin and Master Merry to go on down to the kitchen and check on them shrimp, and see what was what, since it'd be lunchtime before we knew it. Kalil had gone out to talk with Faramir and Eowyn, but he came back, so it was just us with Mr. Frodo. Which was fine by me. And with just the three of us, it seemed like as good a time as any to bring up what Master Merry had said.

"Mr. Frodo, sir," I said, "we was wondering, Master Merry and me, whether you might like to try some more o'that foreign food. When Kalil says you're up to it, o'course. We was thinking since you liked that sweet rice so good, maybe there's other things you'd like too."

His whole face lit up like the sun coming out after a rainstorm. "Oh! I *would* like that. Very much, actually."

I looked up at Kalil. "What d'you think? Is there anything they make here he could have, something that wouldn't hurt him, but - a change, so to speak? I know he's got to be tired of eating the same old thing, 'cause he's liked everything you've made him."

Kalil nodded. "There are some things which would be good. We will start little master with soft, easy foods. Things which should sit well. If he takes them well, we try spicier food." He grinned at me, and all of a sudden I wondered what I'd got myself into. "You try too, little friend. You try new food with him."

Mr. Frodo looked at me then, and laughed, and didn't choke, and it was the most beautiful thing in the world. "You must, Sam!" he said. "We shall have another adventure, and this one far better than the last."

"I can arrange something for tea, and for dinner," said Kalil. "Little master's friends making lunch for him. We leave that alone; shrimp will be good for him. But I talk to the kitchen, and get something nice for tea and dinner."

Well, that sounded good enough to me, and Mr. Frodo looked more interested than I'd seen him in anything for a while, so I was right happy with that.

"Would you like me to read for you, sir?" I asked him. "Or maybe you'd like a nice bath?"

"A bath would be nice," said Mr. Frodo. "Do we still have that soap - sandalwood, I think it was called? I should like to use that."

Kalil stepped out to call down for water, and I checked, and sure enough we had that soap still, so I told Mr. Frodo yes, and then when the water was brought up, and not before, I started getting him out o'his night-shirt and wrapped up in a blanket so we could take him to the tub without him catching a chill. Not that there seemed to be much danger o'that here, as warm as it always felt to me. But I knew Mr. Frodo weren't as strong as me or Master Merry or Master Pippin, so I wrapped him up good, and then Kalil carried him for me and put him in the tub, real gentle. Then Kalil went downstairs to the kitchen while I gave Mr. Frodo his bath.

Quiet it was, so quiet, save for the sounds of people passing in the street below, and the lapping o'the water in the bath-tub now and then. It was real peaceful, and a warm breeze blew in, which Mr. Frodo seemed to like.

"It smells of sunshine," he said.

"I reckon it does indeed, sir. Maybe soon you'll be better enough to lie out there in the sun and soak up all that good daylight."

"I should like that." He bent his head forward for me to wash his hair. "Sam ... do you remember how dark it was in Mordor? How little light there was?"

"I remember, sir." I wet his hair good and poured on some stuff from a little bottle Eowyn had told me was good for washing hair. Then I worked it up into a lather. "There seems to be all kinds o'light here, though. Master Merry and Master Pippin say it's nice out."

"I can taste fruit in the air." He shifted a little in the tub as I rinsed the soap out o'his curls. "It tastes of oranges. And spices, I think. Some sort of spices."

"There's all kinds o'spices here, sir. You wouldn't believe what all. I don't reckon I know 'em all even close."

"Did you enjoy dinner last night?" His voice sounded warm, like he was amused, and when he sat up and let me dry his hair, he was smiling.

"It was good, real good. Strange. But good."

"What did you have to eat?"

The longing in his voice made me so glad I could've danced. "There was some kind o'battered fish on sticks. Them skewer things. And nuts with salt and pepper. And then..." I had to think about it for a minute to remember. "Lamb. It had a kind of sauce, and rice that smelled real good, and mushrooms in a sauce. Poppy seeds and almonds. And there was this flat bread with onion and mint to eat with it. And creamy little things for dessert. Sir, you'd love it. You would've eaten them mushrooms up."

"Mmm. It does sound delicious. Maybe I can get up for dinner eventually. Do you think I could?"

Well, I weren't about to discourage him hoping. "I don't see why not, sir, once you get some o'your strength back. I'd be real glad to sit at a table with you."

"I'd like that, Sam." He smiled from under a mop o'damp curls. "I would."

-to be continued-


	18. Chapter 18

Title: Into the East

Author: Febobe (Frodo Baggins of Bag End)

Rating/Warnings: PG/K+ (graphic food descriptions, some occasionally graphic medical angst - NO CANON CHARACTER DEATH. I promise! It may seem at first that I'm headed that direction, but I absolutely guarantee, NO canon characters will be killed off in this fic!)

Summary: After the Quest, Frodo comes down with a serious illness, and journeys to Harad in search of better health. Told by Samwise.

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Elrond, Eowyn, Faramir, Merry, Pippin, an OC named Kalil (partly in tribute to Claudia's own Khalil), other supporting OCs, brief appearances by Aragorn and Gandalf. Others TBA, if any.

Disclaimer: I do not own and have not created any of J.R.R. Tolkien's work, neither characters nor world nor any of his concepts. I'm just playing in the sandbox, with no ill intent. Original characters, including (but not limited to) Kalil are my own creation, and I would appreciate it if they weren't used without asking. (Unlike Tolkien, I'm not dead!) This fic meets FrodoHealers standards and is free from profanity, sex, and slash.

Notes: Sam lovers, I think this is a fic you'll enjoy, as it strongly features his voice and viewpoint. Frodo lovers, this is definitely a fic you'll enjoy, especially if you're an old-school FrodoHealers fan. Faramir and Eowyn, Merry and Pippin will all have significant roles to play throughout this fic, though it takes a few chapters to get there. Also, please note that I have chosen Indian food for the predominant culinary culture of Harad. I realize that it may well be closer to Middle Eastern cookery, but I wanted to give it a distinctive tie and recognizable flavor, and I chose Indian. No ill will intended if you prefer a different interpretation; just know that this is my interpretation only and I realize it isn't the only potential take on Haradraic food out there. A word about Kalil and the Haradrim: I intend absolutely no disrespect to any culture or language. But the people of Harad _would_ look and seem strange to Sam, Shire hobbit that he is, and more so than the fair-skinned elves and Big Folk he knew well. As for Kalil's language, I realize some people are fluent in multiple languages, but Kalil isn't as fluent as some people. I think he does pretty well myself!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

After we got him back in his bed, all freshly made up, Mr. Frodo dozed off, and I was right glad to see it, for it seemed a natural, healthy sleep, restful and seldom disturbed by his cough. Oh, he still coughed, all right - it just weren't every other minute now, and I was glad to think he might be getting some rest. On toward lunchtime, though, he woke up, and by then Kalil had come back up, carrying a pot and two cups on a tray. Even I had to admit it smelled good, if strange. Spices o'some kind.

"I bring tea for little master," he said, "and his companion. This we call chai. It is what we drink most here. It is also good for fever such as little master has, but it will not hurt his friend. Try it."

Well, he poured us each a cup, and I wanted to help Mr. Frodo first, but Kalil wanted to do that, and made me take my cup, so I watched real close to make sure he'd support Mr. Frodo the right way with pillows or his arm. Then I looked down at the cup.

It was a dark liquid, and in that not too different-looking from Shire tea. But it smelled rich and spicy, and it was swirled with milk, and I reckoned Mr. Frodo would love that, for all he took milk in his tea most o'the time anyhow. I tasted.

That was good!

It tasted strange and foreign to me, all right, but it weren't half bad, and I could pick up some familiar flavours in it, like ginger and maybe cinnamon.

"What d'you think, Mr. Frodo?" I asked, curious to see whether he liked it. From the look on his face I guessed he did, and sure enough, he smiled.

"It's delicious," he said. "I wish Lord Elrond's brews tasted this lovely. I should never have objected to a single dose of medicine had it been so nice as this."

"Food is the best medicine," said Kalil. "If the food is not right, it does no good to give lots of medicine. If the food is right, it can *be* much of the medicine."

Well, if that didn't sound like Shire hobbit thought, I didn't know what would. I weren't real sure about what he'd send up for tea and supper, but if this was any indication, I didn't figure I oughta be too afraid about it.

"Little master's friends bringing lunch in a few minutes," said Kalil. "They were nearly finished when I was downstairs."

"Lunch," said Mr. Frodo. "That might be nice. I think I could eat a little."

That made me grin. I didn't know as food would make Mr. Frodo better, but I didn't figure the right food would make him worse, and he couldn't get better without good food anyhow, so him eating had to be a good thing in my book.

And sure enough, about that time, here come Master Merry and Master Pippin, Master Pippin carrying Mr. Frodo's tray, pretty as you please.

"I hope you're ready to eat, Frodo!" he said. "We've brought you a treat. Fried shrimp, with that red sauce they made in Gondor, and wedges of lemon if you want them, and some soup too. And fried mushrooms. And a little dish of salted nuts, and a dish of fresh fruit."

I noticed that Master Merry had a tray too, and suddenly I felt odd.

"This is for you, Sam," he said, and I felt myself going red.

"Oh, now, sir, you oughtn't to be carrying anything up here for me. T'ain't right."

"Of course it's right." Master Merry set down the tray close to Mr. Frodo's bed. "I hope you don't mind; we didn't make you any shrimp, because we remembered you weren't fond of them. But we did give you a bigger dish of soup, plus plenty of mushrooms, and some bread, and nuts and fruit, and if you want anything else, I'll go and fetch it. There's everything you could imagine in the kitchen."

"Sir, there's no need. Won't you sit here and eat?"

"Pippin and I ate a whole meal's worth while we cooked and tested things. And we tried some of what they're making for the main supper tonight. We're quite stuffed, I assure you." He gestured. "Sit down and eat, Sam. You need to rest and eat, too. Frodo's counting on you."

Well, now, that did me. I couldn't fail Mr. Frodo. So I sat down there near his bed and opened up my tray, all the while keeping an eye on Mr. Frodo's that Kalil was opening, to make sure he was doing all right.

"I'll feed Frodo," Master Pippin was saying. "Kalil, there's plenty for you in the kitchen, if you're interested. Let me help!"

"Thank you, sir," said Kalil, real polite, and bowed. He patted Mr. Frodo on the right shoulder. "If you need me, you call. I come right back soon."

"Thank you," said Mr. Frodo, and looked at his tray. It was right pretty, all right, with everything Master Pippin and Master Merry had said, right down to a great bowl o'chicken and mushroom soup with celery and carrots, and that looked so nourishing I felt sure it had to do him good if he could eat some. And the fried mushrooms were all crispy and peppery and battered nice. It looked like the shrimp were nice, too, but there weren't nothing nice about them things to me 'cept that Mr. Frodo loved 'em so, and I just shut up, a little glad that Master Pippin was the one helping with them and not me.

We ate, and I kept an eye on things, and sure enough, Mr. Frodo did eat nice for his cousin. He ate several o'the fried shrimp, and let Master Pippin squeeze lemon juice on 'em and dip 'em into the red sauce and all that for him, and he even picked up the fried mushrooms himself, weak as he was, and ate up some o'those, and let Master Pippin feed him a few spoonfuls o'soup.

The nuts and the fruit were the surprises, though. The nuts were real nice, all kinds, kinds we knew from Gondor and some we didn't, and they were salty and spicy and creamy all in the same bite somehow. But the fruit - the fruit was a rare treat, and I could see that Mr. Frodo thought so too, for the fruit seemed to enchant him, and he ate every last bite.

"Remember oranges?" said Master Merry. "There's those, and this yellow fruit, that's pineapple, and see the grapes?"

"It's so delicious," said Mr. Frodo. "The pineapple most of all. It tastes like pale sunshine, doesn't it?"

I turned away then, so he wouldn't see me tear up.

Of all them dark days in the shadow of Mordor, I hadn't never thought to see this day come. And even with Mr. Frodo so very sick, this still seemed like a happier day than I'd ever thought to see again.

-to be continued-


	19. Chapter 19

Title: Into the East

Author: Febobe (Frodo Baggins of Bag End)

Rating/Warnings: PG/K+ (graphic food descriptions, some occasionally graphic medical angst - NO CANON CHARACTER DEATH. I promise! It may seem at first that I'm headed that direction, but I absolutely guarantee, NO canon characters will be killed off in this fic!)

Summary: After the Quest, Frodo comes down with a serious illness, and journeys to Harad in search of better health. Told by Samwise.

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Elrond, Eowyn, Faramir, Merry, Pippin, an OC named Kalil (partly in tribute to Claudia's own Khalil), other supporting OCs, brief appearances by Aragorn and Gandalf. Others TBA, if any.

Disclaimer: I do not own and have not created any of J.R.R. Tolkien's work, neither characters nor world nor any of his concepts. I'm just playing in the sandbox, with no ill intent. Original characters, including (but not limited to) Kalil are my own creation, and I would appreciate it if they weren't used without asking. (Unlike Tolkien, I'm not dead!) This fic meets FrodoHealers standards and is free from profanity, sex, and slash.

Notes: Sam lovers, I think this is a fic you'll enjoy, as it strongly features his voice and viewpoint. Frodo lovers, this is definitely a fic you'll enjoy, especially if you're an old-school FrodoHealers fan. Faramir and Eowyn, Merry and Pippin will all have significant roles to play throughout this fic, though it takes a few chapters to get there. Also, please note that I have chosen Indian food for the predominant culinary culture of Harad. I realize that it may well be closer to Middle Eastern cookery, but I wanted to give it a distinctive tie and recognizable flavor, and I chose Indian. No ill will intended if you prefer a different interpretation; just know that this is my interpretation only and I realize it isn't the only potential take on Haradraic food out there. A word about Kalil and the Haradrim: I intend absolutely no disrespect to any culture or language. But the people of Harad _would_ look and seem strange to Sam, Shire hobbit that he is, and more so than the fair-skinned elves and Big Folk he knew well. As for Kalil's language, I realize some people are fluent in multiple languages, but Kalil isn't as fluent as some people. I think he does pretty well myself!

CHAPTER NINETEEN

After that nice lunch, Mr. Frodo seemed better, a little stronger maybe for all the good food he'd eaten. And when Master Merry and Master Pippin took the trays back down, Kalil said he wanted to talk to us.

"I talked with the Lord and Lady," he said, "and they agree what I will tell you is best. So I would like little master to hear me out, consider what I advise."

I listened, but I was watching Mr. Frodo real close, in case Kalil might upset him. I weren't going to have nobody upsetting Mr. Frodo.

Kalil pulled up a little stool and sat down close to Mr. Frodo.

"We must first get your fever down," he said, "and that we do with different kinds of tea I will make. I think you know some. Peppermint. Ginger. Some you know less, maybe. Cinnamon. Cardamom. The chai from today. You take a cup with your meals, and milk drinks at night, and you rest. We give you cool baths to make you more comfortable."

Mr. Frodo nodded, and so did I; that sounded all right enough so far. Peppermint tea and ginger tea were right common back home, and I knew Mr. Frodo did just fine with either or both. And that chai stuff hadn't been half bad. Sort o'tasty, if you ask me.

"But," Kalil went on, "we expect little master to grow stronger, and as you grow stronger, we can only make you stronger by doing certain things. Making sure you eat plenty of good food. And getting you up and about."

At that, Mr. Frodo's eyes widened, and I reckon mine did too.

"He ain't strong enough to be up yet," I said. "Coming here was awful hard on him."

"But he will not get stronger lying in bed inside," said Kalil. "The fresh air and sunshine will help him. Tomorrow we carry him out to lie on the porch, the balcony. We keep him covered with blankets. But he needs sunshine and good air. Otherwise he never get well. He will get worse."

I bit my lip.

"Do you really think I could get up?" asked Mr. Frodo.

"Not by yourself yet," said Kalil, "but soon. Soon we will help you get up and walk a little. And - " He smiled. "There is something else. Something you have not seen. There is a swimming-pool outside, behind the house. It is private. Can little master swim? Or perhaps his friend?"

Well, I felt all the color drain right out o'me then.

Swim?

Poor Mr. Frodo, whose parents drownded, swim?

But to my shock, Mr. Frodo nodded.

"I can," he said. "I learned when I was a child. Sam, though, has not learned."

Kalil grinned wide.

"You teach him!" he said, looking pleased as punch. "Little master teach his friend, when he feels stronger. We get little master in the water to exercise and grow strong, and we get little friend in there to learn. Swimming is very good for you. The water will carry your weight. It will not be so hard as on land."

"Begging your pardon, sir," I said, looking at Mr. Frodo, "but I ain't never had no luck with water. You remember the boat. When we went off on our own and all. What happened. If it hadn't been for you, sir - "

"Which is precisely why you need to learn!" said Mr. Frodo. "Sam, you will love the water once you get used to it. My parents had me taught. I only wish they had learned. If they had - " He swallowed suddenly, and I saw his eyes looked wet. "Sam, if my parents had learned, they might still be alive."

Well then. That settled it. I reached out and took his hand in both o'mine.

"I'll learn, sir. Whatever you care to teach me about it, I'll do my best, or my name ain't Samwise Gamgee."

"Good!" exclaimed Kalil. "Then we have something for you to work toward. And I bring new medicine for little master tomorrow. I have been working on it. It may help ease his chest and get him breathing better."

That sounded promising. At least I thought so. But Mr. Frodo wrinkled his nose.

"I hope it won't be bitter," he said dejectedly.

"Not so bad," said Kalil. "I sweeten it with honey and spices for you. We make it nice before you must drink it."

"I suppose that isn't so bad, then," said Mr. Frodo.

"Besides," Kalil said, with a gleam in his eye that amused even me, "if little master works at getting better, perhaps one day we take him to the market in a wheeled chair, wheel him through all the stalls so he can try new foods and see many wonderful things, smell delicious cooking, see the people of our country."

Well, now, that made Mr. Frodo's poor thin face light right up. He looked so excited I couldn't help smiling.

"I want to go," he said eagerly. "I will do whatever I must. I want to visit the market. I've never seen any place like this before."

"And oliphaunts!" Kalil added. "I have heard that little master and his friend saw their first oliphaunt not long ago, and were most impressed?" He looked at me with a merry grin. I couldn't help but stare.

"Are there oliphaunts here, sir?" I asked. "Are there any left? Since the - the War?"

"Oh, many!" said Kalil. "There are even some tame enough to ride. But little master must get stronger first."

Mr. Frodo laughed. It made him cough a little, but he got through it quick enough, and grinned at me.

"Just think, Sam!" he said. "What if you and I could ride an oliphaunt? Can you imagine?"

I could, all right, and that was the problem. But I didn't want to do anything to discourage Mr. Frodo. If he wanted us to ride an oliphaunt, then I reckoned we'd ride an oliphaunt. And that was that.

-to be continued-


End file.
